


Salvation

by Isabella2004



Category: Law & Order
Genre: Addiction, Established Relationship, F/M, Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:15:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 121,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28611927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isabella2004/pseuds/Isabella2004
Summary: In New York, Ben tries to forge a new path, pining for the woman he desperately loves. In London, Evelyn falls spectacularly apart, pining for the man who can save her from herself.
Relationships: Ben Stone/OC





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Conclusion to ‘Perceptions’ and ‘Wreckage’.

**Prologue**

**July 1994**

The journey seemed to take forever and though he tried to distract himself with in-flight entertainment and the book he had purchased before boarding, he found that he couldn't concentrate on anything. Even watching the clouds drift by the window did nothing for him. He felt restless, anxious, making so many unnecessary trips to the bathroom that he was sure the woman seated at the aisle thought he had some sort of prostate problem. Each time he checked the little map on the television on the back of the seat in front of him, it seemed as though the plane had barely made any headway at all.

He tried to sleep, but he couldn't.

She was there, in his mind, all the time.

Hours later, as the seatbelt sign eventually came on and they started making their descent, he felt a peculiar sensation in his stomach, completely unconnected with their passage down through the sky. It was uncertainty. What was he going to find? How was she going to be? What would she say when she saw him? His thoughts were so preoccupied with questions that he barely noticed the wheels hitting the tarmac, barely felt himself being pushed back into his seat as the pilot hit the brakes, barely heard the smattering of applause at the safe landing.

"Ladies and gentlemen welcome to London Heathrow," the pilot's staccato, almost robotic, voice came over the intercom. "The weather is a mild 18 degrees Celsius and the local time is seven twenty-seven pm. Please remain in your seats until the aircraft has come to a complete stop and the seatbelt sign has been switched off. On behalf of all of the flight crew, we wish you a very pleasant onward journey and thank you for flying United Airways."

 _A very pleasant onward journey..._ he thought to himself... _but to what?_

By the time he was making his way through the terminal towards immigration, his heart was thudding. What if this was a huge mistake? It was too late to turn back now...too late to just ask the pilot if he would mind if he got back on the plane and went home and yet he felt like running and hiding somewhere like the kids used to do when they were little and knew they were in trouble.

"Business or pleasure?" the immigration officer asked, glancing at his passport.

"Pleasure," he replied, though he felt ridiculous saying it.

"Enjoy your stay."

The baggage hall was crowded, the result of many flights all landing at once and when he reached the right carousel there were already people muttering about how long it was taking for the bags to come off. Part of him agreed with them. Part of him wanted to be on his way by now. But another part of him couldn't help but hope that there would be some sort of problem that would delay him further.

His case was one of the first to appear and as he pulled it off onto the trolley to sit with his hand luggage, he thought again about how difficult it had been deciding what to bring with him. He was only going to be in London for five days and God only knew what those five days were going to be like.

The arrivals lounge was equally as busy as the baggage hall and he scanned the faces, looking for anyone he might recognise...looking, wishfully, for her.

"Ben!"

He turned at the sound of his name and saw Sarah pushing through the crowd towards him, her face etched with both concern and relief.

"Thank God," she said, stopping in front of him and letting out a long breath. "Thank God you're here."


	2. Chapter 2

**May 1994**

**Six weeks earlier**

**London**

"Evelyn, do you have that report for the McCormick file? Evelyn? Evelyn!"

Evelyn started suddenly at the sound of her name and looked up to see Sarah framed in her office doorway. "Sorry, what?"

"The McCormick report. Do you have it?"

"Oh...yeah...it's here somewhere," she started leafing through all the papers on her desk.

"Are you ok?" Sarah asked, coming fully into the room. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"No, I'm fine. It's just..." she paused, still almost unable to believe it. "Ben resigned from the DA's office."

"What?"

"I called...I called the office to speak to him and...his secretary answered and she told me that he resigned last week. I mean, I read in the paper that he lost his most recent case but I didn't think that he would resign..." she trailed off, thinking back to the brief conversation she had had with Celia when the other woman had informed her, in a tone bordering on accusation, that Ben no longer worked there. After calling previously and getting no answer, it had taken her a week to pluck up the courage to try again and now she wished she hadn't bothered.

"Why were you calling him?" Sarah asked.

"I don't know," she looked away. "I just...felt that I should. Maybe...maybe I should try him at home. I mean, if he's not working that's probably where he'd be, right?"

"Maybe you should just leave it alone."

"Why?"

"Because he's obviously got other things going on right now," Sarah said. "Even _I_ know how much he cared about his job. He wouldn't just leave it for no good reason. I doubt you calling him now would make things any easier for him."

Evelyn paused, knowing that her cousin was right. If Ben _was_ going through something, then hearing from her would be the last thing he would want or need. It would be selfish, especially when she had been the one to walk away. "I suppose."

"Trust me," Sarah said. "Now, do you have that report?"

"Oh...yes..."

"Great, thanks. And you're still on for that meeting at four, right? O'Connell is probably going to be the first account you handle solo so you need to make a good impression right off the bat."

"Yes, I'll be ready," she replied, sounding more confident than she actually felt.

"Good."

Once Sarah was gone, Evelyn found herself slumping in her chair, her head in her hands. She had been half hoping her cousin would forget about O'Connell and forget that she had ever said it would be a good first account for her to deal with. Over a month in her new job and she still didn't have a fucking clue what she was doing.

"Knock, knock!" She jumped and looked up to see Alex standing at the door, a boyish grin on his face. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, it's ok," she said, straightening up and trying to look more professional than she felt. "What can I do for you?"

"It's more what _I_ can do for _you_ ," he replied, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "So, I can't make drinks tomorrow night because I have my girls for the weekend."

"That's nice."

"Yes, it is...so I was wondering if you fancied doing something tonight instead."

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know...drinks...maybe even dinner?"

Evelyn felt her insides go cold. "You mean like a date?"

"If you like," he shrugged. "I am actually good at other things besides sex. Unless...unless that's what you'd prefer."

She tried and failed to stop herself from shuddering and glanced at the clock. Two o'clock. She had worked through lunch again. There had been no time for wine. She looked at Alex again, at his friendly smile and open body posture. He was a nice man, she had to give him that. There seemed no hardness to him, no brutality lurking beneath his exterior and yet...what the hell did she know?

 _You know he makes you feel like you did with Edward,_ she said to herself. _In those early days before it all turned nasty. You know what you are when you're with him._

"Evelyn?" He was still watching her, clearly keen for some kind of answer.

"I think...I think it might be better just to leave it this time," she replied finally.

"Ok," he replied easily. "If that's what you want, that's fine. Just let me know if you change your mind." With a final smile, he let himself out of the office, closing the door behind him.

 _What do I want?_ She asked herself once she was alone again. _I want everything to be different. Everything._

**New York**

"I can't believe how much you two have grown! Honestly, Peter, you'll be taller than your father soon! And Pam...you're so much prettier in the flesh than in your pictures. Oh it's just so good to see you both."

Ben smiled as his mother fussed over his children, pulling them into embraces that he could tell partly embarrassed them but which he also knew they secretly enjoyed, and when she turned and pulled him into her arms, it was hard not to feel like a child again himself.

"And you," she chastised him gently, pulling back and casting her eye over him. "You look exhausted."

"He's not working, Grandma, he can't be exhausted," Peter quipped.

"Yes, well that's something we can talk about later," Mary Stone said, in a tone that indicated she wouldn't be swayed from the topic. "Your Aunt Carole sends all her love. She's sorry that she wasn't able to come out from Wyoming but what with the change in timing and your Uncle Sam's work..."

Ben nodded, understanding fully his older sister's dilemma. After Evelyn had left and it was clear that there wasn't going to be a wedding, there seemed no need for his family to visit after all. But having geared herself up for the trip, his mother had told him that she would still be coming, but that he should tell her when would suit better. Now that he was unemployed, it had seemed like the perfect time.

"It's a pain in the ass that we have to be in school while you're here," Peter said, as they made their way towards the parking lot.

"Language Peter," Ben said.

"I don't see why we couldn't just take the week off school," Pamela chimed in. "It's not as if we'd miss that much."

"Don't be ridiculous," Mary said. "Education is very important and I would have been very upset if your father had told me he was keeping you away from school for the duration of my visit. I'm sure that we'll have plenty of time to see each other. All of this weekend in fact."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay with us?" Ben asked. "I told you that I would happily take the couch and give you my room..."

"Nonsense! I'll be perfectly happy at the hotel. Besides, you're too old to be sleeping on a couch."

"Thanks."

"Oh you know what I mean. In any event, I like having my own space as much as you do. I'm sure I'll be perfectly comfortable."

He found himself zoning out of the conversation as they all piled into the car and he started the slow journey to the hotel. His mother and the kids chattered back and forth the entire time, there seeming no natural break to the conversation. As they sat, bumper to bumper, in the evening traffic, he allowed his mind to wander, as it so often did these days.

It had been a week since he had left the DA's office and, so far, it felt like the longest time in his life. Even when he had taken vacations before, he had always known he had something to be going back to. Cases had always stayed in the back of his mind ready to be attacked once he had returned to his desk. This time, there was nothing. He still got up in the mornings to make sure that Peter and Pamela got off to school and he was there at dinner time when they arrived home, but for the most part, he just drifted through the rest of the day. In the last week he had been to the library twice, a coffee shop once, the park once and spent the remaining time in the apartment.

He felt lost.

More than once he had wondered if he had made a terrible mistake.

"Where are we going to eat?" Pamela asked, once they were in the lobby of the hotel.

"Why don't I see your grandmother up to her room and you two can think about where we should all go," he said, a decision that seemed to please everyone. Leaving Peter and Pamela sat in the lobby, he carried his mother's suitcase into the empty elevator and pressed the button for the tenth floor.

"I meant what I said," she said, once they were alone. "You look exhausted. Have you slept at all lately?"

"A little," he admitted, "but I've had a lot to think about."

"I can understand you being upset at Evelyn leaving, of course I can...but leaving your job? Ben, I'll admit, when you told me what you'd done I thought you were crazy."

"I know. You said as much on the phone."

"You've been there over twenty years! You barely know any other kind of life! Have you actually given any consideration as to what you're going to do now?"

"Some."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"And what have you come up with? Doorman? Cab driver?"

"There must be lots of things I could do," he argued as they exited the elevator and made their way along the hall to her room. "You don't earn a law degree and twenty odd years experience without learning a few things along the way."

"Ben..." she sighed as he opened the door. "You're fifty-one years old, not thirty-one. Do you know how hard it is going to be for you to convince a company to take you on?"

"I'm hardly on the scrapheap!"

"I'm not saying that you are, but whatever job you go for you are going to be competing with candidates half your age."

"So experience counts for nothing?" he said, growing irritated by her dogma.

"Of course it does."

"Well then."

Mary sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "You're my son. I'm allowed to be concerned about you and your future. You have the kids living with you full time now and financially, you have to be able to support them as well as yourself."

"We're fine," he said, moving over to the window and taking in the view. "I'm perfectly capable of caring for them financially. I've got some money put by and I'm sure that I'll find a job before too long."

His mother said nothing for a long moment. "If you're punishing yourself for what happened to that girl..."

"I'm not," he turned around to face her. "And I don't want to talk about it."

"Fine," she said, getting to her feet again. "Maybe you could give me fifteen minutes to freshen up and then I'll meet you back downstairs."

He nodded and then left the room before either of them could say anything else. Fortunately, he knew her well enough to know that she would say nothing about either his employment or Ann Madsen in front of the kids and for that he was grateful. When he had told Peter and Pamela that he had resigned, their obvious question had been _why_ and he had made up a story about it being the right time to move on. He thought they had bought it. He hoped they had.

As the elevator made its way back down to the lobby, he thought about the funeral announcement that he had seen in the paper. Ann Madsen was to be buried the following day and though part of him wanted to run and hide, another part of him felt that he owed it to her to be present.

"Dad!" Pamela called when he came back into the lobby. "Can we go to _Melons?_ "

"Sure," he replied, somewhat distracted. "Why not?"

**London**

"Don't tell me," Alex grinned. "You've changed your mind."

"Not about dinner," Evelyn replied, "but I could use a drink."

"Sure," he tossed his pen onto the desk, "I can get onboard with that. Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere," she said quickly. "Anywhere they serve wine at least."

It was just past six o'clock and the afternoon had flown away from her. The O'Connell meeting had gone better than she had expected it to. The client seemed nice and friendly and she had found that she had quite a lot to contribute. Sarah had looked pleased at any rate, so she assumed that it had been successful. Of course, she knew the hard work was really just beginning. It was one thing to impress at one meeting, quite another to pull off a successful campaign. Buoyed by the feeling of accomplishment, she felt like celebrating and, somehow, a bottle of wine alone in her flat didn't seem like much of a celebration.

"Then follow me and I will take you to a lovely little place I know," Alex said. Twenty minutes later, they were ensconced at a small table in the corner of a dimly lit bar and, half a glass in, he had already put his hand on her knee. "I saw you were in with O'Connell earlier."

"Yes," she nodded, grateful for the feeling of the liquid sliding down her throat. "It's the first account that Sarah wants me to handle on my own."

"Big responsibility," he whistled.

"Stop trying to scare me."

"I'm not! I'm being serious. They're an important client, one of the first ones we ever had."

"Maybe that's why Sarah's given me them, because she trusts me."

"Maybe," he eyed her carefully. "You seem pleased anyway."

"I am. I actually felt, for the first time, that I might have known what I was talking about," she said. "I think I may have said at least one or two intelligent phrases."

"Oh, I'm sure you said more than that," he said, leaning in and kissing the side of her neck softly. Instantly, she felt herself recoil and he pulled back. "Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Pull away from me."

"I don't," she replied, taking another long drink of wine. "You've had your hand on my leg since we got here and I haven't told you to remove it."

"That's different," he frowned. "Come on, Evelyn, we've already slept together more than once. There's no need to act all embarrassed."

"I'm not embarrassed."

"Making love isn't a crime, you know."

She jerked away from him, pulling his hand away from her leg and sliding to the far edge of her seat. "We haven't made love," she said sharply. "We've had sex. Fornicated. Fucked. Whatever you want to call it."

"Ok..." he said, looking at her as though she had slightly lost her mind. "What if I want to call it making love?"

"I don't," she got to her feet. "Because that isn't what it was. It'll never be that." Reaching over, she grabbed her glass and downed the remaining contents. "I have to go."

"Wait..." he pushed the table back to follow her. "Evelyn, wait!"

Pretending not to hear him, she turned for the door, pushing past a couple as they were coming in, and suddenly finding herself out on the street, taking in huge lungfuls of air, feeling as though the world was spinning around her, despite the fact she had barely drunk anything.

_Making love...how can it call it that? How can he think for one moment that was what it was?_

"Hey, hang on a minute!" Suddenly he was in front of her. "What's wrong? What did I say?"

"Nothing," she replied, trying to sidestep him, only for him to follow and block her path. "Just...can you please get out of my way?"

"This is crazy. Come on, let's go back in and finish our drinks."

"No."

"I won't touch you, I won't mention love making..."

_There's that fucking phrase again! He has no fucking idea!_

"No!" she pushed past him and started running, no easy task in high heels, until she had turned several corners and found herself having to pause for breath. She had never felt so unfit in her life, her clothes of late starting to pinch around the waist. She knew it couldn't be from eating, as she often skipped meals depending on how she was feeling. No, it had to be the wine. There were a lot of calories in a bottle of wine.

Looking around for any kind of recognisable landmark, she caught sight of a bar in the corner. The happy hour posters and neon lights that she could see as she approached made it look more like the kind of place students would hang out. But as she pushed the door open, stepped inside, and saw to her satisfaction that there was a wine list sitting on one of the tables, she realised that she didn't care.

**New York**

Dinner had gone well, better than he had expected after talking to his mother. She had, of course, said nothing further about his job and the conversation had tended towards generalities and what the kids were up to at school. He had to hand it to Peter and Pamela. They could rise to the occasion when it was warranted.

By the time they had deposited Mary back at the hotel and made their way back home, it was late and, with school beckoning the following day, he had fought off their arguments about being allowed to take at least one day off and seen them into their rooms and into bed.

Once alone, he moved over to the bureau in the corner and lifted out the notebook that had been his constant companion over the last week. It had started as a letter that he had intended writing to Evelyn, just a brief note about how things were and expressing hope that she was having a good time. He hadn't even been certain that he was going to send it, but putting pen to paper had been cathartic. Only now, it had morphed into more of a journal, something he felt a keen need to write in at the end of every day, explaining his thoughts and feelings, an outlet for his broken heart.

 _Mom arrived today,_ he wrote. _It was odd seeing her again after so long. Odd, because it felt as though no time had passed at all. She has a way about her that makes you feel like a kid again, but not in bad way. Not in a way that makes you feel small and inferior. No, more like a kind, loving, nurturing way. When she hugged me at the airport, I could honestly have just cried in her arms._

_I think you would have liked her and I know she would have liked you too. I would have liked to take you home to Michigan sometime to visit her there and to show you where I grew up. Maybe we could even have gone to Wyoming to see my sister. She lives in the middle of nowhere. It's so vast and open that all you can hear is the sound of the birds. I haven't been there in so long now, but I think her home was what inspired me to think about a home for us upstate._

_Maybe you wouldn't have wanted to go to either Michigan or Wyoming. I know I promised you London, Paris and Rome but I guess you've beaten me to at least part of that._

_I love you. I miss you more than you'll probably ever know._

_I hope you're happy._


	3. Chapter 3

**New York**

It was a pretty little place, Sleepy Hollow, if you could discount the large General Motors plant on the outskirts. It had a traditional look about it...a quaintness. It embodied everything that you would conjure in your mind when people would say _I'm from a small town._ He had never visited before nor had he known anything about it apart from the legend.

And the fact that it was Ann Madsen's hometown and the place where she had been brought back to be laid to rest.

"Ben, I really don't think this is a very good idea," Mary had said when he called her at the hotel that morning. "It's not going to make you feel any better about what happened."

"I'm not doing it to make myself feel better," he had argued, glad that his mother couldn't see the look on his face. "I'm doing it because it's the right thing to do."

"And what if they don't want you there? What if it causes a scene?"

"Nobody knows who I am. Besides, I'm only going to the service, not the burial. I doubt anyone will even notice that I'm there." He had said the words more in hopeful expectation than anything else. Having lain awake most of the previous night thinking, he had reached the conclusion that attending Ann Madsen's funeral was indeed something which he felt he needed to do.

Her death had obviously been widely reported. The star witness in a murder trial gunned down on the steps of her home as she fled into protective custody. There had been much speculation about who was responsible, and much condemnation of the police and the DA's office for not doing more to protect her.

He had been named in at least two articles, though only to be confirmed as the prosecutor in charge of the case. No-one had cast any aspersions on his actions.

Yet.

The death notice in the paper had read:

_Ann Victoria Madsen,_

_beloved daughter of the late Peter and Catherine Madsen,_

_much loved sister of Emily,_

_sister-in-law of James and aunt of Katie and Luke._

It had gone on to give the details of the funeral, a service at the local church and then a burial in the nearby cemetery. All friends were welcome to attend. Well, he certainly hadn't been her friend.

He had deliberately left his journey as late as possible, wanting to avoid seeing anyone he might know or face the inevitable question from a grief-stricken mourner, _and how did_ you _know Ann?_ It only took half an hour to reach the church once he had left the gridlock of the city and when he pulled into the church car park, he could see that it was already overrun with other vehicles.

She had obviously been a popular woman.

He found somewhere to leave the car, neither blocking someone else in or risking being blocked in himself, and followed a group of women as they climbed the stone steps at the front of the building and went inside. There were two men at the door, holding out orders of service and, accepting one, he slipped into a pew as far back as he could and tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Glancing around, he could see that his assessment of her popularity had been correct. The church was full to bursting with people, all talking together in a low hum whilst the strains of an organ drifted through the air. On the other side, in a pew further down, he suddenly recognised Beth, Ann's lawyer, talking to a man by her side, her face turned half towards him, and he prayed that her gaze wouldn't lift and that she wouldn't see him.

He turned to the order of service, hoping to distract himself, but the smiling picture on the front made his heart sink even further. It was a smiling photograph of Ann, standing beside a horse, one hand holding its bridle, the other resting on its neck.

She looked so happy.

He felt sick.

His mother had been right. It had been a bad idea to come but, trapped as he was now in the pew by others, he knew it was too late to do anything about it. Four figures suddenly appeared from the direction of the door and walked down the aisle towards the front where Ann's coffin was displayed. A man, a woman and two teenagers.

Her family.

What was left of it.

The service itself was very moving. One of Ann's friends gave a heartfelt eulogy that had many people in tears. From it, he learned that her father had died when she was in her late teens, that she had been pretty and popular, a varsity cheerleader, an accomplished horsewoman and a straight A student. With each accolade, he felt the grinding weight of guilt grow heavier, as if it would have been easier if she had been some sort of high school dropout, rather than the town's sweetheart.

Her niece and nephew, both in tears, supported each other in reading a favourite poem and there were numerous prayers and hopes for both peace and justice.

He could feel a bead of sweat begin to run down the back of his neck as the latter was mentioned.

"May you ably assist our law enforcement officials, Lord," the minister said, "in tracking down and holding responsible the evil people who took Ann from us."

Finally...finally it was over. The family left first, back towards the door and gradually others began to follow and it was only when he was free of the pew and standing in the line of mourners heading towards the exit that he realised the reason for the lack of speed was that Ann's sister and brother-in-law were waiting to shake each person's hand as they left.

 _Shit..._ he thought, not caring about thinking such an expletive in a house of God. There was no avoiding it. No side door to leave by and, when he glanced behind him back down towards the altar, all he could see was a sea of faces, waiting in line behind him.

There was no other option. He would have to shake hands, offer his condolences and hope to God that nobody recognised him.

As he grew closer to them, he could instantly see the resemblance between Ann and her sister. Emily was as tall, but her hair was longer, straighter and blonde where Ann's had been dark. There was certainly no mistaking the familiar look in her eyes when he finally met them. Tears, pain, fear...he had seen them all before.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," he said quietly, extending his hand, his heart thumping.

"Thank you," Emily said, returning the gesture, her gaze automatically moving to the next person with the practiced ease of someone just trying to get through one of the most hellish moments of her life.

He offered the same condolence to her husband and then, at last, found himself back out into the fresh air. There were pockets of mourners standing around talking, some crying, many hugging, most of whom he assumed would go onto the cemetery for the burial. Reaching into his pocket for his car keys, he couldn't help feeling relief that it was over.

"Excuse me? Excuse me!"

He paused and turned in time to see Emily's husband striding across the car park towards him.

_Shit._

"I know you, don't I?" he said, stopping in front of him. "You're that prosecutor, aren't you? Stone?"

He couldn't help but wonder how easy it would be to lie and, recognising that it would, in fact, be impossible, he nodded. "Yes sir."

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

"I came to pay my respects to Ms Madsen."

"Respects? You came to salve your own conscience more like after _you_ got her killed." He moved closer to him, his voice lowering. "My wife didn't recognise you and I don't want her to, so you just get in your car and get the hell away from here before I do something that'll probably land _me_ in jail."

"I'm sorry," he said, stepping back. "It was not my intention to upset you or your family."

"You should have thought about my family before you forced Ann into testifying. I hope you know how to live with yourself." With a final contemptuous look, he turned on his heel and quickly made his way back over to the church door, still spilling forth mourners.

 _Do I?_ he thought, as he hit the I-87 back towards the city. _Do I know how to live with myself?_

It was early afternoon by the time he was back in the apartment, having stopped at the local deli for a sandwich and coffee, back amongst a crowd where he was definitely sure he wouldn't be recognised. With Peter and Pamela still at school, he found himself soothed by the quietness of home and, as his thoughts wandered, he reached for the notebook again, much as he might have reached for the phone if she was still here.

_I went to Ann Madsen's funeral this morning. My mother was right, it didn't make me feel any better. It made me feel worse. Seeing what she was...what she still could have been...in fact, if anything, being there made me think about you. What if, somehow, they found out who had shot you? What if, somehow, you were shown their picture and you recognised them as being the man on the street that night? What if, somehow, Jack was able to make a case but he needed you to testify? What if, somehow, we both knew that your life would be in danger if you sat on the stand and identified the shooter? What would I do? Would I tell you that you had to testify because it was your civic duty, because you were a citizen and because without you, the system wouldn't work? Would I sit there while Jack threatened to prosecute you and send you to jail for twenty five years if you didn't testify and just nod my head and agree with him?_

_That's what I should do. After all, that's what I did to Ann._

_But all I can think about is how, if that_ was _you, I would bail you out of jail, bundle you and the kids in the car and drive somewhere...anywhere...to save you from either incarceration or death._

_And that makes me the biggest hypocrite in the world._

_And that's why I had to leave my job._

_And that's why living here without you is killing me._

**London**

"Evelyn, I...I don't know what to tell you."

"You must be able to tell me _something!"_ Evelyn exclaimed. "Come on, Claire, you worked with him on the case! You must know why he resigned!" She paused at the silence on the other end of the phone. "Does it have something to do with what happened to that witness, Ann...something?"

"Ann Madsen," Claire replied, "and yes, it does."

"So...?"

Claire sighed. "Ann Madsen didn't want to testify against Steve Green. She was scared about what might happen to her, apparently with good reason."

"And?"

"And...and she lied on the stand..."

"Yeah, I read that bit."

"Ben told her that if she didn't tell the truth, he would prosecute her."

"For perjury?"

"For conspiracy to murder."

"But I thought she didn't have anything to do with the murder?"

"She didn't."

"Surely there's no way a jury would have thought she was involved. Why didn't she bluff it out?"

"Because he also told her that if she didn't testify she would get no protection and...well...her fear did the rest."

Evelyn slumped down in her chair, the enormity of Claire's words sinking in. He had basically given the woman no choice...she had done what he wanted and she was still dead. "That's not...I mean...that doesn't sound like Ben. He wouldn't go that far..."

"Well, he did. I'm not saying that it was his fault. He put everything in place to try to make sure that she was safe...but he blamed himself for what happened to her so...he resigned. I tried to talk him out of it, I know Adam did too, but he'd made his mind up." Claire paused. "He changed after you left, Evelyn. The whole time the case was going on, he was just..." she sighed again. "He said he understood how you felt."

"About what?" she asked quietly.

"Doing something for yourself when other people don't think it's such a good idea."

_Oh Ben...what have I done to you?_

"Anyway," Claire's voice brightened, "how's London?"

"Oh, it's...it's good. It's different, but the people are nice so..."

"I'm glad it's worked out for you. You know, I'm sure you'd be able to get Ben at home if you tried now."

"Thanks, maybe I'll do that," Evelyn lied. "And thanks for telling me. I got nothing out of Celia."

"I'm not surprised. Take care of yourself."

"Yeah, you too." She hung up the phone and stared at it for a long moment, knowing that there was no way in hell she could call Ben at home. She had practically given him the idea of resigning simply by walking away. She had helped ruin his career along with everything else. He would never want to talk to her again.

Checking her watch, she saw that it was after seven. She had missed meeting the Friday night drinking crew, but given that no-one had called up or darkened her door, they clearly hadn't missed her. Of course, there would be no Alex to lead the charge seeing as he was hosting his children and, after their disagreement the previous evening, she would have been surprised if he didn't start giving her a wide berth.

She called her mother at home and got her machine.

She called Shambala at work and was told that she was at court.

She called Elizabeth at her office and was told she was taking a long weekend's vacation.

She put the phone down and realised that she had no-one else to call.

**New York**

"What's the matter?" Pamela asked, staring at him over the dinner table, her cutlery poised in mid air.

"Nothing," Ben replied, "Why do you ask?"

"You've hardly said anything since we got home."

"I'm sorry," he said, inwardly chastising himself for letting any of his feelings spill out and affect them. "It's just been a strange day, that's all."

"Strange how?" she persisted.

"Oh just...strange."

"You went to that lady's funeral, didn't you?" Peter said. "The witness that got killed."

Ben looked at him, surprised that he even knew anything about it. There had been no mention made of Ann, or what had happened to her, in the apartment. "What makes you say that?"

"I read the paper," he replied, digging back into his food. "I know it was your case and that she was your witness and that she lied and then she told the truth and then she was killed." He met his father's gaze again, clearly unaffected by what he had just said. "Is that why you resigned?"

"Someone got killed?" Pamela echoed, her eyes wide.

"Ok, I don't really think that it's a subject for the dinner table," Ben said.

"But you went to her funeral," Peter persisted, "Didn't you?"

"Yes," he sighed, "yes I did."

"Who killed her?" Pamela asked.

"The police don't know," Peter said, before Ben could reply. "They think it was someone connected to the man she testified against."

"Peter..."

"Is anything going to happen to us?"

"No," Ben said firmly. "No, it isn't. Peter...I don't want it mentioned again, all right?" Peter shrugged. "Now I thought you both had places to be tonight, or would you rather stay in and watch TV with me?"

The thought seemed to spur them both into action and they wolfed down the remainder of their food before hurrying to get ready. Pamela was spending the night at one of her friend's houses and Peter had agreed to walk her there before going on to meet some of his friends at the movies. For Ben, it meant another night in alone, staring at a screen, wondering what she was doing.

By the time he had the apartment to himself, the thought of being alone no longer appealed and he decided, on somewhat of a whim, to go to a place that he hadn't been to in a long time but which, at one time, had been a favourite haunt. It was a warm evening and he enjoyed the walk. Even before he got inside, he could hear the strains of the music filtering out onto the street, growing louder as he descended down the steps and opened the door into the inky darkness. Instantly, he felt himself relax and, as though he had never been away, he made his way across the room to the booth in the far corner that he had always preferred.

He had barely sat down when the waitress came over and asked if he wanted a drink. He ordered bourbon and admired her appreciatively as she walked away, something else he hadn't done in a long time. When she brought the drink back, he smiled at her and she smiled back. She was pretty, but she couldn't have been more than twenty five at most.

 _Peter would probably like her,_ he thought, sipping the cool liquid. _She looks a bit like Claire._

The saxophonist on the stage finished to enthusiastic applause and was replaced by a piano player who tinkled the ivories as though he had been born to do it. _Now this,_ he thought, leaning back into the booth and closing his eyes, _this is music. Not like the rubbish you hear on the radio today._

"Would you like another?"

He started suddenly, his eyes flying open to see the waitress standing in front of him again, and realised that his glass was empty. "Sure, thanks." She flashed him another smile and disappeared back in the direction of the bar. He could see her from his seat, leaning against the bar waiting for the bartender to pour the drink and, more than once, she glanced back in his direction.

 _Stop it_ , he chastised himself. _You're old enough to be her father and besides..._

She walked back across the room towards him, the glass balanced on her tray and as she bent to put it on the table, he caught a flash of cleavage through the opening of her blouse. When he met her gaze again, she smiled, clearly aware that he had seen and, almost to his shame, he felt a flutter of arousal.

"I wouldn't bother, Stone...something tells me she's more interested in the potential size of your wallet than the size of your manhood." The waitress's face fell and she straightened up and hurried away back over to the bar. "And people wonder why I've been married three times."

Ben watched in surprise as Lennie flopped down in the booth beside him. "This is certainly not the kind of place I'd expect to find _you_ ," he observed, once he'd found his voice.

"Consider it as me saving you from yourself," Lennie replied. "So, is it your round or mine?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Are you following me?"

"Oh please," Lennie said, "I've got better things to do with my time than stalk a former Executive Assistant District Attorney. Lemonade for me and whatever he's having," he instructed the waitress.

Ben felt himself wince slightly at the word _former_. It was hard to separate yourself from something that had been part of you for so long and, in so many ways, the job had defined him. Without it, what was he? A sad, pathetic, fifty-something sitting in a bar looking at younger women.

"I was using the payphone across the street when I saw you come in here, so I thought I'd come and see if you were ok." The waitress reappeared with drinks and placed them hurriedly on the table before departing again. "So, are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," he took a drink, hoping that the other man wouldn't see the truth in his expression. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm great," Lennie replied sarcastically. "I'm trying not to think about the wonderful weekend vacation Mike's enjoying in Connecticut whilst I'm stuck here in the city writing up witness statements."

"He's on vacation with Liz?" Ben asked, thinking suddenly about her. Attractive, professional, poised...he couldn't help but briefly wonder what she saw in Logan. They were so different, from entirely different worlds. What could they possibly have to talk about?

"Who else? They're practically joined at the groin."

_Well, that answers that question._

Lennie looked around their surroundings. "So, is this the kind of place you come to often?"

"Are you trying to pick me up?" he joked.

"Don't flatter yourself. No offence, but I like them a little more feminine."

"I like it here," Ben followed his gaze to where the piano player was being joined back on stage by the saxophonist. "I like the music, the anonymity...I used to come here a lot in the past."

"Why did you stop?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I guess it wasn't giving me what I wanted."

"Which was?"

"You ask a lot of questions, you know that?"

"I'm a detective, what do you expect?" Lennie drained his glass. "I have to say that, personally, I prefer somewhere a little brighter, you know, with maybe some televisions on the wall showing sports?"

Ben laughed, "I don't mind those kind of places either."

"I guess it's easier to mentally undress waitresses somewhere like this though, right?"

"I was _not_ mentally undressing her," he replied, feeling somewhat indignant at the insinuation. "I was only..."

"Looking?"

"It's not a crime, is it? Or are you about to tell me they passed a new law in the week since I left office?"

"No, not that I know of." Lennie paused. "Seeing as you mentioned it, you want to tell me why you, all of a sudden, decided to up sticks and give up your career?"

"I did not give up my career!" Ben snapped, his mother's words coming back to him. "I decided to do something different, that's all. It's hardly unusual."

"Come on counsellor, you've been doing the same job for the last twenty years. You've seen cases come and seen them go. You've seen murderers, rapists and the like be convicted and seen them walk free. You're telling me that, one day, you just decided you'd had enough and wanted to do something different?"

Ben stared down into his glass, "Something like that."

Lennie signalled the waitress and ordered another round. "If you're torturing yourself over what happened to Ann Madsen..."

"It has nothing to do with her."

"Oh really? You know that it wasn't your fault..."

"I really don't want to talk about it." He had been able to think about little else since leaving Sleepy Hollow that afternoon. The anger, the devastation, the injustice...it didn't matter how many times people said it, or even how many times he tried to tell himself, he still felt the weight of blame on his shoulders.

"Ok, let's talk about something else then. How are your kids?"

"They're great, thanks," Ben replied, brightening slightly as he thought about them. "They both seem to have settled well into their new school, they've made friends...Peter's still playing baseball and Pamela appears to have discovered a flair for drawing that none of us knew she had."

"That's great. Peter's sixteen now, right?" Ben nodded. "Is he thinking about playing pro-ball?"

"He's considering it, but he also seems to be interested in the law."

"Like father like son?"

"Something like that." He couldn't help but smile at the waitress this time upon her return and she tentatively smiled back before shooting Lennie a look and hurrying off again. "Pamela's determined that she wants to study fine art at college."

"I hope you've disavowed her of the notion that she'll ever make any money as an artist."

"She's only thirteen, I'm sure she might change her mind but, if it makes her happy...my mother's in town this week and Pam's insisted that they go to the Met at least once before she goes back to Michigan."

"That must be nice," Lennie said, "having your mother to visit. I mean, if it were mine I'd want to run a mile but..."

"Yeah, I guess it is. I haven't seen her in a while and it's been even longer for the kids. It's nice for her to be able to spend some time with them too."

"How's Evelyn getting on in London?"

The sudden shift in topic made Ben pause and he felt his stomach turn over just at the mention of her name. He looked across the room to where the waitress was serving another table. "I wouldn't know."

"She hasn't called?"

"No," he lied. _Not unless you count the hang ups._

"You haven't called her?"

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

He tore his gaze away from the waitress and looked at his companion. "She made her feelings pretty clear before she left."

"What, she told you she didn't love you?"

"No..."

"Said she never wanted to see you again?"

"No, but..."

"So, you've just decided that the best thing to do is cut all contact?"

"I don't expect you to understand," Ben said, lifting his glass, aware that he was trotting out the same line Evelyn had used so often when talking about her feelings towards Edward and suddenly realising how useful it was as a tool of deflection. "She's...living a new life now."

"I realise that, but does that mean that you can't at least be friends?"

"Friends?" he echoed, laughing mirthlessly, the effect of the alcohol starting to kick in. "I don't want to be her friend, Lennie, that's the problem." He tracked the waitress again as she crossed the room back to the bar. She had a nice figure, the tight black skirt and white blouse hugging her in all the right places. "Are you friends with any of your exes?"

"Ha! Friends? No."

"Well then..." he gestured to their empty glasses. "You want another one?"

"Are you kidding? I'll be pissing all night at this rate," Lennie got to his feet and pulled out his wallet, dropping some notes onto the table. "Come on, I'll walk you back to your place."

Ben lifted the money and held it out to him, "Keep your money."

"Forget it. I probably owe you for something."

"I don't need you to pay my bar bill."

"I'm paying mine too," he insisted. "Come on, let's go before you get yourself into trouble."

Ben got to his feet, feeling the room sway slightly. How many had he had, four or five? His capacity for liquor had certainly diminished over the years. In his younger day he could have drank twice that and still been standing. He glanced over towards the bar again where the waitress was watching him. "She's pretty," he observed.

"Yes, she is," Lennie said, taking his arm, "and not what you need right now, believe me. She's got trouble written all over her beautiful _young_ face."

Somewhat reluctantly, Ben followed him to the door of the bar and made his way slowly up the steps back to the street, the light dim now as darkness prepared to fall. He looked at his watch and saw that it was after nine o'clock. He'd told Peter to be home by eleven. There were still almost two hours to kill. The night was, theoretically, still young.

"You want to hit a sports bar?" he turned to Lennie. "I feel I owe you for making you sit in there."

"You didn't make me do anything and, besides, you're going home," Lennie replied, propelling him in the right direction. "You've got two kids to take care of."

"Pam's at a sleepover and Peter's at the movies. He won't be home until later."

"Then you've got time to go home and have some coffee before he gets back and wonders what his old man's been up to." They started walking. "Believe me, Ben...alcohol isn't the answer when you feel like the world's unloading on you. I've been down that road time and time again. It doesn't solve anything."

"What do you think I am, an alcoholic?" he retorted. "This is the first time I've been out in months!"

"Maybe so, but what would you have done if I hadn't come along?"

"I don't know what you mean," he replied stubbornly.

"Yes you do. You would have got drunk and then done something stupid with that waitress. I know the pattern."

Ben said nothing, irked somewhat that the other man presumed to know him and yet somewhat comforted by the fact that he seemed to care enough to step in where he foresaw disaster. "How long have you been sober?" he asked, after a moment's silence.

"A good few years now," Lennie replied easily. "Not that it didn't take me a long time to get there. Once you've hit rock bottom, and hit it hard the only way is up. Trouble is, I liked bouncing around down there too much. I wouldn't wish that life on anyone."

"I'm sorry."

"For what? Nobody forced me. It was the job back then. Only most of the other guys knew when to give up and go home. No, I got myself into it and I got myself out of it. Not that there weren't casualties along the way."

"Of course," Ben said, metaphorically kicking himself. "I'm sorry, I should have asked after your daughters."

"Oh, they're both fine as far as I know. I don't hear from them much but, again, that's on me not them. You're lucky that you have such a close relationship with your two."

"Well, it wasn't always like that," Ben admitted, thinking back to the days, not that long ago, when weeks would go by without any contact.

"I know. Families, eh?" Lennie sighed. "They all come with all sorts of problems." He stopped walking. "This is you, right?"

Ben looked up and saw that it was indeed his building. "Yes it is. How did you even know I lived here?"

"I told you," Lennie smiled. "I'm a detective."

"Thanks for the drinks...and the advice."

"What advice? I just kept you from sticking your dick where it was liable to get chopped off." Ben blushed. "You want some real advice?"

"Do I have any choice?"

"Not really," Lennie replied. "Call Evelyn."

"Lennie..."

"Call her! I don't know, call me crazy, but I got the feeling the last time I saw her that she wasn't really as convinced about London as she would have had everybody believe."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning, maybe she's just waiting for you to call her so that she can admit she made a mistake." He looked at him meaningfully. "Have a good weekend counsellor."

"You too," Ben replied, watching as the other man crossed the street and walked back the way they had come. When he let himself back into the apartment, he hesitated, caught between the lure of the drinks cabinet and the coffee machine.

He chose the latter.

**London**

For a moment, she wasn't sure what the noise was or where it was coming from. Through the fog of sleep, the high pitched whine permeated into her brain to the point of pain. Grabbing the pillow, she pulled it over her head, trying to block it out, only for it to continue and for her to eventually realise that it was the sound of the phone.

Forcing herself to open her eyes, she pulled herself across to the bedside table and reached for the receiver, knocking a thankfully empty glass off the side as she did so, and croaking out a greeting. "Hello?" There was a silence at the other end of the line. "Hello?"

She could hear the sound of heavy breathing and, for a moment, thought it was some sort of crank call, until she heard the sound of a female voice whispering. "Say something!"

"Who's there?" she asked. Again, there was a silence. "Ok, I'm hanging up now."

"Evelyn?"

She started suddenly, instantly recognising the voice. "Pamela?"

"I'm...I'm sorry..."

"Pamela..." Squinting at the clock on the table, she mentally counted back the hours. "It's after midnight in New York. Does your dad know you're calling?"

"No, I'm sleeping over at my friend Rachel's house."

"Well...how did you get this number?"

"We called the international operator."

"I see..." Evelyn flicked on the bedside light and blanched at the sudden pain in her head. "Are you ok?"

"I guess."

"You guess?" She felt her heart start to thud. "Has something happened?" _Ben...please tell me it's not Ben..._

"No, I just..." Pamela's voice cracked slightly. "I miss you."

A lump rose in her throat and she fought down the urge to start crying. "I miss you too. All of you."

"I don't think you're a selfish bitch, even if Peter does."

The memory of the words, spat at her as she had left the apartment that night, came back to her and she couldn't help but think that she had deserved them. "Well, he's probably right on some level."

"No, he isn't." Pamela paused. "Do you like London?"

_Do I like London? What a loaded question. What the fuck do I say?_

"It's...it's different."

"In what way?"

"Well, the weather isn't as good as it is back home and...they have different words for things and different money and...people drive on the left..." she fought for safe examples when all she really wanted to say was that it was far worse than she would ever have imagined it could be.

"Oh."

Evelyn paused. "You and Rachel really should be sleeping, you know, not making international phone calls."

"What time is it in London?"

She squinted at the clock again, "Five twenty."

"In the morning?"

"Yes."

"Oh...well, I guess I should go."

The lump rose in her throat again, "It was nice to hear your voice."

It was Pamela's turn to pause. "Can I call you again sometime?"

"Pam...I don't think that's a very good idea. It's expensive for one thing and...and your dad probably wouldn't like it if you called from the apartment."

"He doesn't have to know."

"He pays the phone bill," she found herself smiling at the young girl's naivety. "What are you going to do, deny all knowledge when he asks who's been calling London?"

"Well...can't you call me then? I can let you know when I might be home by myself and you could do it then."

"I don't think your dad would like that either."

"How do you know? You haven't even spoken to him! He's miserable here without you, I know he is!" Pamela's voice rose with each sentiment. "He loves you and he wants you to come back!"

"Pam..."

"So do I!"

"Pam, I'm going to hang up now, ok? This is going to be costing Rachel's parents a fortune."

"No, wait, don't go. I...I could call you from a payphone."

Evelyn sighed, realising it was perhaps better to acquiesce than continue the argument. "Ok fine. You can call me from a payphone sometime, but only if you have the money."

"Ok."

"Ok."

"I'd better go now. Bye Evelyn."

"Bye." The line clicked and the dial tone buzzed in her ear. Slowly, she replaced the receiver and then slumped back down in the bed, feeling wretched all over again. After leaving the apartment that night, she hadn't seen or spoken to either of the kids again and though she had wanted to ask Ben if she could say goodbye properly to them, she had been too afraid to raise it with him and he had never offered her the chance. But then, why would he have? It wasn't just his face she had been kicking sand in.

She thought back over Pamela's words. Was Ben miserable without her? She was certainly miserable without him and yet, it was all her own doing. She could hardly turn around now and say she had made a mistake. Besides, once he knew what she had been up to, he wouldn't want her anyway.

Pushing back the covers, she climbed out of bed and padded through to the living room. An empty wine bottle sat on the coffee table alongside the half empty one that she had started and been unable to finish. It probably had, maybe, a glass and a half still left in it and her eyes strayed to the empty glass on the kitchen counter.

 _Don't be so fucking ridiculous,_ she told herself. _It's five-thirty in the morning. There's starting early and then there's..._

She turned on the television, unwilling to even finish her own thought, only to be met by the frozen smile of the test card girl and her creepy doll staring out of the screen at it. Shuddering, she switched it off again and sat down on the couch, pulling a blanket around her and staring at the wine bottle.

**New York**

_She looked nothing like you and yet...Lennie was probably right. If I had stayed there on my own and she had given any indication that she was willing...I don't know what I would have done. In the ten years since I separated from Laura you're only the second woman I've slept with and now you're gone and I found myself thinking about what it would be like to go to bed with someone else and I hate myself for having those thoughts because it feels like a betrayal._

_I think about that night in your mother's apartment all the time. When I close my eyes, I see you lying there, looking up at me. I feel you underneath me...my hands on your body..._

He broke off and tossed the notebook over the side of the bed, swiftly followed by the pen. Writing anything more made him feel almost sordid, even though it was all perfectly natural. It was strange how a person could learn to live without sex. After his divorce, it had been the last thing on his mind, consumed as he had been with work, and so when he had met Stephanie, in that bar, sleeping with her hadn't even registered. He had enjoyed her company more than anything else after four years of barely speaking to a woman outside of work and when they had, inevitably, ended up in bed, it had almost come as somewhat of a surprise to him.

It certainly hadn't been a surprise when it had ended, neither of them keen for anything long term, and the following six years of celibacy had passed without any great feelings of loss or missed opportunities.

But now...

He rolled over and looked at the clock. It would be almost six am in London. Saturday morning. He imagined her in bed, sleeping peacefully, looking for all the world the way she had the last time she had been in his bed...the last Saturday morning they had spent together when things had still been good.

His mother was coming over for brunch and then Pamela wanted to go to the Met. Peter had made noises about staying home but Ben knew it was probably better to try and convince him to go with them. Family time was so important, even though there was someone missing.

 _Call her...h_ e could hear Lennie's voice in his head... _call me crazy, but I got the feeling the last time I saw her that she wasn't really as convinced about London as she would have had everybody believe._

What did he even mean by that? She couldn't have been more convinced about it if she tried, at least in any conversation _they_ had had about it.

Maybe he _should_ call her. It wouldn't hurt just to check that she was ok and that things in London were working out for her. Or maybe it _would_ hurt. Maybe it would hurt like hell and he would instantly wish he hadn't done it.

He felt his eyes grow heavy as sleep pulled him in.

He would decide in the morning.


	5. Chapter 5

**London**

There was nothing she liked. Nothing at all and she must have been in over a dozen stores. Maybe it was British fashion. Maybe it was different to American fashion. Or maybe she just couldn't muster up the enthusiasm to look properly, to consider what might actually look nice on her. For some people, shopping was the ultimate endorphin boost. But not for her. Not today at least.

As though to make it seem less of a wasted trip, she had picked up a few items in one store and taken them into the changing room to try on. Despite having figured out the different sizing, none of them seemed to fit properly and as she looked at herself in the mirror, her reflection did nothing for her.

"How did you get on?" the cheery sales girl manning the changing rooms had asked as she had swished back the curtain and stepped outside.

"I'm just going to leave them," she had replied, thrusting the clothes at her and hurrying away, ignoring the girl's suggestions that she maybe try a different size. After that, it had seemed pointless going anywhere else, so she had found a coffee shop, ordered a latte and a sandwich and taken a seat by the window so she could watch the world go by.

It was a beautiful day, at least by London standards. The sun was shining and it was fairly warm with only a light breeze. The weather forecaster had claimed that a heat wave was on its way, which was why she had decided to venture out shopping in the first place. As she sipped her coffee and picked listlessly at the sandwich, she watched people walking by and couldn't help but wonder about them, about their lives. Why were they there on that particular Saturday? Where were they going? Did they have family or friends to meet?

The sound of giggling from a nearby table caused her to look across to where a young couple were sat, their heads bent close together, their conversation whispered and punctuated by laughter. She could see the girl's left hand and the diamond ring that sparkled every time it caught the light. The girl kept looking at it too, so she couldn't help but make the assumption that it was a recent acquisition.

 _I hope he's faithful to you,_ she thought to herself as she watched them. _I hope he really loves you and doesn't just say he does while forcing you into having sex with him and then screwing someone else behind your back._

"Stop it," she whispered quietly. "Stop it."

_He never loved you. He couldn't have. Why would he have done that? Why would he have hurt you like that? Why would he have stayed with you when she wanted him? Why would he have fathered a son and not wanted to be with him? Why...?_

She put her head in her hands and tried to block out the voice, the relentless voice, that kept going on and on and on about Edward. For a while, she hadn't thought about him, but now he was back. Now he was there again in her mind, the endless questions torturing her.

_You should be thinking about Ben. Ben loved you. Ben really loved you and what did you do? You turned your back on him. You left him. Peter was right, you are a selfish bitch..._

Opening eyes that she didn't even realise she had closed, her vision blurred with tears and her head started to ache. She drank the rest of the coffee in one, not caring how it burned her throat, and got to her feet, leaving the sandwich untouched on her plate. Lifting her bag, she made her way to the door of the coffee shop and stepped back outside into the afternoon breeze. For a moment, she simply stood there, forcing other pedestrians to step around her, realising that she had no idea what to do or where to go.

_You could go to Sarah's...no she has her own family. You can't keep bothering her. What about Alex? No, he has his kids and all he sees you as is someone to fuck on a Friday night. You have no friends. You have nobody. You have nothing._

She started walking, not knowing where she was going, just walking.

Walking and walking.

**New York**

Ben had to admit that he was enjoying the visit to the Met and though he was trying hard to pretend that he was faking interest, he could tell that, secretly, Peter was enjoying it too. He had shown little enthusiasm for the paintings, but he appeared impressed by the collection of armour and weapons that were on show, gazing at one huge sword for so long that Ben had to prompt him that they were moving on. Pamela was in her element, pulling her grandmother from one painting to another with joyful abandon that made him smile and also wonder where all this love of art had previously been hiding. His mother, to her credit, encouraged Pamela by making all the right noises and asking her questions, the answers to which were probably fairly obvious, but which his daughter delighted in responding to.

For a warm Saturday in May, the museum was quieter than he had imagined it would be, but then people were no doubt taking advantage of the good weather and sitting out in Central Park. When she had returned from her sleepover that morning, Pamela had asked if they could have a picnic in the park, but fearing his mother was past the stage of rolling around on a blanket on the ground, they had compromised with promises of afternoon tea outside.

He hadn't called Evelyn. Not because he didn't want to, but because he knew he couldn't stand the pain of hearing her talk about her fabulous new life, no matter what Lennie said.

"How big is this place?" Peter asked.

"Pretty big," Ben replied, pulling his mind away from her. "Do you remember the last time I brought you here?"

"No."

"Oh you must have been about ten, Pam would have been seven. I don't think you looked at one thing, all you wanted to do was run up and down and hide behind the exhibits."

"At ten?" Peter looked sceptical. "I don't believe you."

"It's true, I assure you. I couldn't get the pair of you out of here fast enough and we ended up going to the park instead."

"I don't remember."

"No..." he thought sadly, "I suppose you wouldn't."

"Ben? Ben Stone?" He turned at the sound of his name to see a man crossing the floor towards him. "I thought it was you. How are you?"

"Hello Charles," he greeted him, shaking the outstretched hand. "I'm fine, thank you, how are you?"

"I can't complain. How long has it been?"

"Oh, must be at least six or seven years," Ben replied, "ever since you charmed that jury into acquitting Leroy Johnston of the Peckham murder."

"That's right!" Charles shook his head. "That _was_ an interesting trial. Right verdict though."

"Depends on who you talk to."

Charles laughed and then glanced towards Peter, "Is this your son?"

"Yes, this is Peter," Ben said, putting his hand on Peter's shoulder. "Peter, this is Charles Webber. He's a defence attorney at...where is it again...Smyth and Bradley?"

"Pleased to meet you," Peter said dutifully.

"And you," Charles replied. "I was at Smyth and Bradley but I gave that all up about three years ago. I'm teaching at Columbia now." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. "I'm the Senior Professor of Criminal Legal Studies."

"Congratulations," Ben said, perusing the card. "It must be quite different from being in the courtroom."

"It is," Charles admitted, "but I can't tell you how rewarding it is to feel you have a hand in shaping the criminal legal minds of the future." He paused. "I...eh...understand from various sources that you've left the DA's office?"

"That's right," Ben replied, mindful that Peter was listening. "Last week in fact."

"I'm sorry to hear that. You were certainly a formidable opponent." Charles paused. "Do you have another job lined up?"

"Not yet. I'm considering my options."

"Well then let me help you consider! We have a vacancy that's about to open up in my department. One of my colleagues has elected to retire at the end of the semester and we're looking to replace her in time for classes beginning again in September." He paused again. "I can think of no better person than you, Ben."

"Oh...well, I...I hadn't really thought..."

"I know I've sprung it on you," Charles said, "and I don't want to talk shop when you're out with your family. Please, think about it over the weekend and call me on Monday. We can have lunch and I can tell you a bit more about the role. What do you say?"

"I...uh...sure, ok," Ben said.

"Splendid! Well I'm glad I ran into you today. Nice to have met you, Peter. Enjoy the rest of your visit." With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared back across the room.

Ben looked down at the card in his hand for a long moment and then put it into his pocket. He hadn't really considered teaching as a viable alternative, especially after so many years in the courtroom. But then perhaps Charles was right. Perhaps he _would_ get some satisfaction out of seeing eager young students take the first steps towards their legal careers.

"Who was that?" Mary asked, as she and Pamela suddenly appeared beside them.

"He offered Dad a job," Peter said quickly.

"He didn't offer me a job, he _told_ me about a job," Ben corrected him.

"You're going to call him on Monday though, right?" Peter persisted.

"Maybe," Ben replied. "Maybe."

XXXX

"Teaching's very lucrative, or so I hear," Mary opined, as she and Ben sat at a cafe inside the park an hour later. Peter and Pamela were sitting a few feet away, on the grass, eating ice cream and talking together.

"It's also very different," he replied.

"Why, because you're not in a courtroom? Maybe you won't be performing to twelve jurors but you'll be performing to fifty or so students. Isn't that enough?"

"It's not about _performing._ "

"Isn't it?"

Ben looked over at his mother, "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the part of you, however big or small you want to admit to, that enjoys playing to a jury," Mary said. "You're not going to tell me that you don't ask a witness questions in a certain way because you want the jury to react to it."

"That's part of it I suppose..." he replied. "But it's about truth. It's about justice. It's not about trying to win an Academy Award."

"So you're not acting? Especially when you deliver a closing argument?"

"No...well, at least I don't think so. I've never thought about it that way." He drained his coffee. " _You_ obviously have though."

"Well, maybe I just watch too much television," his mother said. "Do you think you would enjoy teaching?" He shrugged. "Oh come on Ben, you must have _some_ idea whether you would or you wouldn't."

"I suppose I would," he agreed. "They'd all be there wanting to learn, unlike some of the kids that Carole has to deal with in her high school chemistry classes."

"Maybe you should talk to Carole about it. I know it's not the same thing, but I'm sure she could help you come to your decision. Remember it's not just about the teaching. There would be papers to grade and the like."

"I know."

"You'd have all the vacation time to fit in with the school, however. No need to think about who would look after the kids."

"Peter's sixteen now. He can watch Pamela if he has to."

"And what about when he doesn't want to?" Mary glanced over to where they were sat together. "They're close now, but there will be times when they hate the sight of each other. You and your sister certainly did."

"Well, she bullied me."

Mary laughed, "You learned how to stick up for yourself eventually." She paused. "What's holding you back?"

"Nothing's holding me back," he replied, growing irritated. "I just haven't thought about all the different options yet."

"Well, if you ask me, you're never going to be a defence attorney. You've got too much integrity for that game."

"There's nothing wrong with being a defence attorney," he said hurriedly. "The system needs them otherwise the whole thing just collapses. And there are some good defence attorneys out there. Some very good ones."

Mary didn't say anything for a long moment. "I wasn't casting any aspersions on Evelyn."

It was his turn to pause, to look around his surroundings.

It was such a perfect day.

_Why in God's name aren't you here with me? I miss you so damn much._

"I know," he said finally. "I didn't think that you were."

"No harm can come from you meeting with this Charles Webber," Mary said, as Peter and Pamela started to make their way back over to the table. "If you decide you don't want the job, you don't have to take it."

"Right," he said, glancing at his watch and wondering what she was doing. Had it been as beautiful a day in London as it had been in New York? Was she thinking about him at all?

"Dad..." Pamela sidled up to him and slipped her arm around his shoulder.

"What?"

"Do you have any spare change?"

**London**

_Selfish...selfish...selfish...selfish bitch! You know what you are, you stupid selfish bitch! You're a loser. You're a nothing. You're a whore..._

"Stop it, stop it, stop it!" Evelyn cried, her hand shaking as she tried to pour herself another glass of wine, her vision blurred by hot, angry tears. "Please...please stop..."

_What are you good for now? Nothing. Nothing except spreading your legs._

She dropped the empty bottle onto the table with a clatter and shakily brought the glass up to her lips. It tasted almost like nothing, as though she was drinking water and not alcohol. How much had she had? She couldn't even remember.

She needed to eat. When had she last eaten? She couldn't remember that either. What had she even done that day? Had she left the flat? She must have. There had only been a little wine left last night and now...now there were more bottles...

_Stupid, selfish bitch._

She curled up in the corner of the couch and tried to focus on the television in front of her. There was some sitcom playing, its ridiculous situations and canned laughter going completely over her head. She couldn't take anything in.

What time was it?

She needed to eat.

But what?

The path from the couch to the kitchen appeared treacherous. Every step required some sort of support and she half collapsed against the counter, squinting at the clock on the microwave. Nine o'clock. It was nine o'clock.

She had to eat.

She didn't want to eat.

She wanted to drink.

There was more wine in the fridge. She knew that because she somehow remembered carrying the bag up the stairs and hearing the bottles clinking against each other. Pulling open the door she swayed as she surveyed her stash. There were at least four more bottles. More than she could ever drink in one night.

But you never knew.

Food.

_You don't want food. You want love. You want sex. You want love and sex. You want Ben but you can't have him because you're a stupid selfish bitch..._

"Ben..." saying his name only made her cry again and she slammed the fridge door closed, just as the phone across the room starting ringing.

She could hear it.

Could she get to it?

Did she want to?

She could just leave it...could just let it ring. But what if it was something important? What if something had happened?

She had to answer it.

The receiver felt heavy in her hand. Why did it feel so heavy?

She could barely get the word out. "Hellooo...?"

"Evelyn?"

She knew that voice. "Mmmmm..."

"Evelyn, it's...it's Pam..."

"Pam..." she started sobbing.

_Pamela. His daughter. Ben's daughter. Ben..._

"Oh Pam...Pammy...little Pam...where's your father? Where is he? Where...?"

There was a pause. "Evelyn, are you ok?"

"No..." she slurred. "No, I'm not ok...I'm never going to be fucking _ok_...you shouldn't..."

"I can get Dad," Pamela said. "He's here. I mean, he's over there. I could go and get him..."

"No! No, I don't want him...I don't want him...he can't...he can't..." she started crying again. "You...you need to go."

"But..."

"You need to go!" She slammed the receiver back down into the cradle and slumped down on the floor.

_Stupid selfish bitch._

_You deserve this._

_You deserve all of it._

**New York**

"I'm more than happy about having another early night. You know I don't really like being out after ten anyway," Mary said as they hovered at the park entrance. "Besides, I'd like to go to Mass tomorrow morning. What about you?"

"What about me?" Ben asked, watching Pamela using the payphone a few feet away.

"Do you want to come to Mass with me?"

He turned back to his mother. "I hadn't really thought about it. I haven't been in a while."

"Well maybe now's the time to go back."

"The kids won't go."

"Well they can stay home, can't they? It'll only be for an hour or so." She paused. "It would be nice going to church with you again, Ben, like the old days back home."

"The _very_ old days," he quipped as Pamela hurried over towards them, her face ashen. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she replied shakily.

He took her arm, suddenly concerned. "You're as white as a sheet."

"I'm fine."

Ben frowned, "Who were you calling?" Pamela said nothing. "Pam? Who were you calling?"

"Rachel," she replied. "I just wanted to say thank you to her mom for having me over last night."

He glanced at Peter who shrugged, "I didn't hear who she was talking to."

"Did she say something to upset you?" Pamela looked at him wide-eyed. "Rachel's mother. Did she say something to upset you?"

"No," she said, "no, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." She pulled out of his grip. "Can we go home now? Please?"

"Yes," he said, watching her hurriedly walk away from him. "We can go home now." He turned back to look at the payphone, as though it somehow would give him a clue to Pamela's obvious distress then, left wanting, he followed her and the others back up to the street.


	6. Chapter 6

**New York**

"I'm telling you Ben, I know there's a lot to be said for being a litigator, but teaching really does open your eyes. It takes you back to your own younger day, before the cynicism set in. Back when you thought doing a law degree meant you would help change the world somehow."

"Are you a professor or a salesman?"

"I guess I'm a little of both," Charles laughed. "I think to be a successful teacher, in any field, you have to be. You have to _sell_ the law to them, especially criminal law. They think it's all _LA Law_ and _Perry Mason._ You don't want to shatter those illusions completely, but you _do_ need to be able to package it all appropriately."

"Sounds interesting," Ben said, sipping his water. He had taken Charles up on his offer and called him earlier that week to discuss his proposal of employment. The older man had said he was busy with classes most of the week, but free on Friday and would Ben like to join him for lunch at _The Four Seasons._ It seemed a little extravagant for the occasion, but seeing as Charles had insisted that the faculty would be picking up the tab, it had seemed churlish to refuse.

"Oh it is. It's a very interesting role." Charles slid a piece of paper across the table towards him. "This is the full job description, along with a breakdown of the salary and benefits. I think you'll find it's rather generous."

"Very generous," Ben said, casting his eye over the figures. "More than I would have assumed."

"We're proud of our faculty. We want the best. To get the best, you have to be willing to pay them. So..." he looked at Ben out of the corner of his eye. "What do you think?"

"I think it sounds very attractive. What exactly does the recruitment process involve?"

"Recruitment process?" Charles laughed. "There is no recruitment process as far as you're concerned Ben. If you want the job, it's yours." Ben stared at him. "I talked to the Dean of the faculty earlier this week and he agreed with me that you would be, by far, our preferred candidate in any circumstances."

"But you don't know who else might apply."

"True...but I can't think of anyone better qualified. A man who's seen it all, so to speak. I rather think the students will be quite taken with you."

"I've never taught before," Ben reminded him. "And something tells me that standing up in front of a room full of students is going to be different to standing up in court."

"Different, yes, but no less rewarding. Remember, much like a jury, the students don't know if what you're saying is correct or not." He paused. "Look, I'm not expecting a response right away, of course. You need to take some time to think about it. I'm sure you've had other options in mind. Talk to your family, to your kids. I'm sure they would be in favour of it, especially if either of them were considering Columbia in the future."

"Yes, I..."

"Even better...we're having a drinks reception tomorrow night, Saturday, at _Le Monde_. The entire faculty will be there. Why don't you come along? You can meet some of the other professors who I'm sure will regale you with stories of how wonderful it is to be part of the Columbia family, and you can see for yourself how you might fit in. What do you say?"

Ben paused. It didn't sound exactly like his sort of event, but if he was going to end up taking the job then he would have to at least make _some_ effort to socialise, and with Peter and Pamela due to spend the weekend with Laura, it was either that or another evening home alone, pouring his heart out to a notebook that never gave him the satisfaction of a response.

"That sounds fine," he replied finally.

"Splendid. It's seven for seven-thirty. You're welcome to bring a plus one of course," Charles said, as the waiter brought their main courses.

"Oh no, that's ok," Ben said hurriedly. "It'll just be me."

The rest of the luncheon passed amiably enough, the conversation flitting between generalities and reminiscences of their time opposing each other. Though he joked along with the other man, Ben couldn't help but remember the murder trial in question and the fact that, in his opinion, a guilty man had walked free.

_Story of my life._

By the time they came to say goodbye, it was almost three o'clock, an hour and a half before the kids would be home from school and three hours before they needed to catch their train to Hartford. As he made his way slowly back towards the apartment, enjoying the afternoon sunshine, he couldn't help his thoughts turning to Pamela. Ever since the phone call in the park the previous Saturday, there had been something about her demeanour that had bothered him. Gone was the happy-go-lucky teenager, desperate to draw anything and everything to be replaced by someone almost entirely different. She had been quiet and withdrawn the entire week and had refused to elaborate any further on what Rachel's mother had said to her.

"Has she said anything to you?" he had asked his mother as they said goodbye at the airport before her flight home.

"Not a word," she had replied. "If you find out what's really bothering her, will you let me know? I've hated seeing her look so downcast these last few days."

"Of course I will," he had replied, hugging her tightly, sad that she was leaving and wishing that she could stay. He knew he would miss her sage advice. "I'll bring them out to see you over the summer."

"I'd like that," she had said before waving and disappearing out of sight to her gate.

With her gone, he couldn't help but feel lonely again. He had talked to her during that week about things he would ordinarily have talked to Evelyn about, had she been there. Pamela might have talked to Evelyn too...in fact he was sure of it. If she had been there, she would have been able to find out what the problem was.

 _But you're not,_ he wrote in his journal when he got home. _You're not here and suddenly I find myself not quite sure what to do or how to handle it. Do I keep pushing her for reasons or do I just let her be? I suppose I could call Laura and tell her, ask her to find out, but who knows what her reaction would be. No doubt she would find some way to make it my fault, despite our recent cordiality._

"Pam..." he sighed later that evening as they were gathering their things together to head to the station. "I really wish you would tell me what's bothering you."

"It's nothing."

"It obviously is! I've a good mind to go round to Rachel's building and ask her mother what in God's name she said to you last Saturday!"

"No!" Pamela's head flew up. "No, please don't do that, Dad, please!"

"Well what else do you expect me to do? I hate seeing you like this. You haven't sketched anything all week and that's not like you."

"I've got my sketch pad in my bag."

"So you might draw something this weekend then?"

"Maybe. Just please...please don't talk to Rachel's mom."

"Ok," he said, though it was far from being ok. He looked at Peter, who merely shrugged, and felt the futility of continuing the argument. "Well, you know you can call me any time if you want to talk and I'll be there to get you off the train on Sunday night."

"Are you going to this drinks thing tomorrow night?" Peter asked.

"Yes, why?"

"What are you going to wear?"

"I hadn't decided yet," Ben smiled. "Why? Do you have an opinion?"

"Don't wear the brown jacket. It makes you look like some geeky teacher."

"Isn't that what I'll be if I take the job?"

"Maybe," Peter said, "but if you want the girls to like you, you need to make more of an effort."

"The girls? As in the female students?"

"No..." Peter rolled his eyes. "The girl professors."

"Well, you know, getting the 'girl professors' to like me isn't really the point of going," Ben joked.

"Maybe it should be," Peter said, his tone determined. "If you want another girlfriend, that is."

Ben paused. "I'm not looking for another girlfriend, Peter."

"Can we go?" Pamela demanded. "I don't want to miss the train."

"Sure," Ben said, as Peter shrugged again and moved past him to the door, his bag slung over his shoulder. "Let's go."

The station was busy, mostly crowded with commuters heading home for the weekend. It was a routine they all knew by heart now. They would arrive at the station then the kids would buy some candy and soda from the vending machine for the journey, they would wait until the track number came up and then they would say their goodbyes.

"I'm going to miss you guys this weekend," he said, suddenly feeling a pang at their leaving.

"You'll have too much fun at your party to miss us," Peter said. "Remember, not the brown jacket and maybe smile a bit more so that the girls will talk to you."

"Peter..."

"She's never coming back Dad. You need to move on."

Ben paused, stunned almost by the maturity in his son's voice, even if his words weren't the ones he wanted to hear. "You just worry about yourself. Look," he pointed to the board. "Track five."

"Bye then," Peter gave him a quick hug.

He turned to Pamela who stood looking at him, wide-eyed, for a moment before throwing herself into his arms. "Have a good weekend, honey."

"Is Peter right?" she asked, her voice muffled against his shoulder. "Is Evelyn really never coming back?"

_Jesus, what am I supposed to say?_

He prised her gently away from him and took in her pale face. "I'm pretty sure that she'll come back to New York at some point, Pam, but if you're asking whether or not she's ever going to come back to us for it to be like the way it was...then no, I don't think she will."

_God, saying it out loud hurts like hell._

"But what if..."

"Pam, we have to go!" Peter interrupted. "The train's going to be leaving in five minutes!"

"But what if what?" Ben asked.

"Nothing," she shook her head. "I'll see you on Sunday."

He watched as she turned and hurried away to catch up with her brother. He waited until they were out of sight, lost in the crowd, then he turned for home, his daughter's words ringing in his ears.

_But what if..?_

**London**

"So, what are your plans for tomorrow?"

Evelyn looked up to see Sarah framed in her office doorway. "Oh...uh...nothing," she said, pretending as though she had to think about it when, in reality, the answer was obvious. "Why?"

"There's a music festival on in Hyde Park. You know, some drinking, some dancing, letting our hair down...just you and me. What do you say?"

"Uh...sure. What time?"

"It starts at eleven so I'll swing by your place about ten-thirty, ok?"

"Sure."

"Great. I am in _desperate_ need of a blowout. Oh..." Sarah turned back. "I'm pretty sure the place is going to be overrun with hot guys so you might want to wear something a little eye-catching."

"Eye-catching?" she echoed, but her cousin had already disappeared down the hallway. "What the fuck does that even mean?" Sighing she turned back to the papers in front of her and tried to refocus. She felt she had done well this week, primarily pulling together a strategy for the O'Connell account that Sarah approved of...plus, she had drunk very little in comparison to normal.

The phone call with Pamela haunted her. She remembered saying something, but she couldn't remember what, only waking up on the living room floor with an absolute fucker of a headache and a throat as dry as sandpaper. The fact that she couldn't remember scared her. She was drinking too much. She had to scale back. So she had, at least, as much as she could and still function.

The hands of the clock flipped to five-thirty and she paused, wondering if she should go. It was Friday night. She should really make the effort. She was never going to make any friends any other way and, if she was able to be sensible, she might actually get to know some people rather than simply stare into the bottom of a wine glass and wonder when it would be full again.

When she reached the foyer, the usual crowd was waiting and a few of them smiled and said hello to her. Somewhat nervously, she tried to start up a conversation with one of the girls from the accounting department, only to be distracted by the sight of Alex a few feet away.

_Of course...he doesn't have his kids this weekend._

Since their altercation the previous week, they had done a pretty good job of avoiding each other. She had stayed as far away from the vicinity of his office as she could and, more than once, when she had seen him waiting for the elevator she had taken the stairs instead.

As though he sensed her looking at him, he turned and met her gaze, so she looked away, embarrassed at the memory of their last conversation when she had run out of the wine bar. He must have thought she was crazy. She looked over again to find him still watching her so, self-consciously, she turned her back on him and started talking to the other girl again. Her name was Emma, she was twenty-nine, engaged and she lived across the river. She chatted openly as they made their way along the street to the usual haunt and Evelyn sat beside her at the table, forcing herself to continue the conversation and drink her wine slowly, even though with every mouthful her brain was screaming at her to go faster.

At seven-thirty, people started to drift away and, draining the last of her glass, she decided to do the same. A hot bath and some television. A much better way to spend a Friday evening when you were essentially going to be out drinking the following day. Emma had left a few minutes earlier and she had been talking to some of the other girls who, it turned out, were also going to the festival in the park.

"Maybe I'll see you guys there then," Evelyn said.

"Yes, absolutely," one of them had replied. "You'll probably find us at the beer tent."

Lifting her bag, she slid out of her seat and got to her feet, cast a general goodbye to the remaining crowd and made her way to the door. As she stepped out into the evening air and took a deep breath, for once, she actually felt good about a decision.

"I'll walk you back to your place."

She turned at the sound of a familiar voice and blanched slightly at the sight of him. "No...that's ok."

"I'd like to."

"I'm perfectly capable of getting myself home."

"I know that. Please?" he spread his hands in a gesture of appeasement.

"It's a tube ride away."

"I don't mind that. I'm a big boy. I can handle the tube on a Friday night." He grinned at her and, despite everything, she felt herself smiling in return. "You, on the other hand, being an American...you might need my protection."

"I'm from New York, remember?" she said as he fell into step beside her. "We have a subway that would probably make your tube look like a kids fairground ride."

"Ouch...that hurt. How dare you downplay the fear factor of our tube network! I'll have you know that it is _rife_ with violence."

She laughed.

He was silent for a moment."I suppose I owe you an apology."

"What for?"

"For upsetting you last week."

"Forget it." She felt herself redden with embarrassment. "It...uh...wasn't you. It was me."

"To be fair, I've never had a woman run away from me just for mentioning love-making before," he said. "But I guess there's a first time for everything." They stepped onto the escalator that would take them down into the bowels of the station. "Is it something you want to talk about?"

"No."

"Ok."

"I'm sorry...it's not that..." she struggled for the right words. How did you tell someone something without actually telling them anything? "It's not that you're not a nice guy but..."

"I'm an amazing guy, but I understand. It's fine." He paused again. "So, how's work been this week anyway? I feel like I've never seen you."

"Good," she said, hardly wanting to admit she had been actively avoiding him. "I think I'm finally getting to grips with it. The O'Connell account seems to be coming on well at any rate."

"That's great," he said as the train rushed through the tunnel towards them. "I'm really glad."

They got on board and found two seats together, Evelyn conscious of the pressure of his leg against hers. "How was your weekend with your girls?"

"It was good, thanks. The weather being nice helped. We went to the park and stuff like that. It's better than being stuck indoors with them."

"How old are they?"

"Seven and four." He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet and extracted a slightly dog-eared photograph depicting two young girls with their hair in bunches. "Natalie and Gemma."

"They're beautiful," she said. "You're very lucky."

"Yes I am." He put his wallet back in his pocket. "Do you have any kids?"

"No," she replied softly, the sound of the train screeching into the next station drowning her out. "No, I don't."

XXXX

His mouth was on her neck...and it felt nice. His hands were moving down the front of her body, over her breasts and lower down her stomach...and it felt nice. Pressed up against her back as he was, she could feel his arousal...and it felt nice.

But it also felt wrong.

So very wrong.

She was sober.

It couldn't happen like this.

_You're not him. I can't do this. Dear God, I can't do this..._

"Don't...please..."

"Don't what? Don't touch you here?" he asked softly, his fingers skimming over her hardened nipples and his teeth grazing her neck.

"Stop it..." she wriggled out of his grip and moved away across the kitchen. Turning to face him, she pressed her hands against the kitchen counter, lest she needed to launch herself at him in some sort of defensive attack.

"I'm sorry," Alex said. "I didn't mean...I thought that might be why you invited me in."

"You came all the way out here with me. I could hardly leave you on the doorstep, could I? I...I was just being polite."

"I see...so you only want to have sex with me when you're very drunk, is that it?"

"No," she said, surprised by the neutrality of his expression. "That's...that's not true."

"Isn't it?" He moved towards her and she felt her body tense. He didn't _seem_ angry, but she knew in reality that meant nothing."What is it you're not telling me, Evelyn?"

"I told you that I don't want to talk about it."

"So there is something to talk about?"

"I just...look...I had a nice evening, I was sensible, and it was very kind of you to accompany me home but...I'd really just prefer to be on my own now."

He sighed and stepped back, shaking his head slowly. "Well, he's a fool whoever he is."

"Who?"

"Whoever it was that let you go."

"He didn't...let me go...I..." she stumbled over the words. Sometimes even formulating an explanation in her own mind was hard enough without trying to explain it to someone else. "It was me, I...I left...it's complicated and...I don't want to talk about it."

"So you keep saying." He regarded her carefully. "But you know, getting pissed out of your face and shagging around probably isn't going to help you deal with whatever it is that's going on in your head. Deep down I think you know that."

She looked away.

"I think what you really need is someone like me."

"Someone like you?"

He nodded and moved closer to her again. "Someone who likes you. Someone who wants to make love to you properly, not just toss you on a bed like some ragdoll. Someone like me." He cupped her face with his hand. "Something tells me that that is _exactly_ what you need right now." Before she could say anything, he kissed her. It was soft, gentle and yet there was an underlying heat...a passion...a need, emotions that she felt springing to life. Emotions that she would have welcomed and acted upon without hesitation had he been someone else entirely.

 _You're right. You're so right. This_ is _what I need. Oh God, this is what I need._

_Only it isn't you I need it from._

_Oh Ben..._

"No..." she pulled away from him. "I...I can't."

"Let me do this for you," he persisted. "Let me make you feel better."

"You can't. You're not...you're not him. Please..." she felt her eyes fill with tears, his face blurring before her, the agony in her chest growing stronger and stronger with each passing second. "You're not him..."

There was a long silence, punctuated only by the sound of her breathing, growing heavy and more laboured the more upset she became.

"Fuck me," Alex let out a long breath and pulled her into his arms, crushing her against him. "No I'm not. I wish he was here though. I'd like to punch his bloody head in."


	7. Chapter 7

**London**

It was warm, but not that warm. Sunny, but not that sunny. Breezy, but not that breezy. It wasn't supposed to rain, but then it might. In fact, it was one of those days that she had come to experience in England where you wouldn't know what to wear from one minute to the next and her wardrobe hardly inspired a myriad of choices. Eventually, she settled on jeans, a t-shirt and a long cardigan and stuffed an umbrella into a cross-body bag. It probably wasn't the 'eye-catching' outfit that Sarah had had in mind, but it was the best she could do and, anyway, the goal was to have a good time with her cousin, not meet men.

She finished putting on her makeup and thought back to the previous evening. Alex had ultimately been a gentleman, letting her cry a little on his shoulder before agreeing to leave her on her own with her thoughts. As the front door had swung shut, part of her had wanted to run after him, drag him back inside, sit him down and tell him everything. Tell him all about Edward and Ben and what she had left behind. It would have been someone to talk to at least.

But she had stopped herself. He would probably think she was crazy anyway.

Instead, she had gone to bed alone, with only her thoughts and fingers for company, and eventually fallen asleep with the tears still on her cheeks.

There was a sudden banging at the door. "Yoo-hoo!"

"Just a second!" She fluffed up her hair and then hurried to open it, unable to miss the slight fall in Sarah's face as she took her in. "What?"

"A t-shirt and jeans?" Sarah made a face. "I thought I said _eye-catching_?"

"You did," she stepped back inside. "But you didn't exactly define the meaning and, in any event, I don't own anything _eye-catching._ Besides..." she turned back to her cousin. "You're wearing a t-shirt and jeans too."

" _I'm_ not on the hunt for a man!"

"Neither am I!"

"Well you should be. I told you before that you need to have a little fun, Evelyn."

"I'm having plenty fun, thank you," she lied.

"With Alex...?" Sarah looked at her slyly. "Come on, admit it! You've had sex with him, haven't you?"

She felt her cheeks redden, "Yes, I've had sex with him."

"I _knew_ it! You go girl! He is _gorgeous!_ I'm telling you, it's exactly what you need." Sarah opened the fridge and examined the contents critically. "No vodka?"

"No," Evelyn replied, distracted by her words.

_What I need...what do I need...?_

_I need him._

"Pity. I was hoping to fill these up here but I guess we'll just have to buy some en route." Sarah waved a couple of empty water bottles at her and giggled. "I _might_ have had a _little_ bit before I left the house."

"It's ten-thirty!"

"So? It's Saturday! We work hard and we need to play hard," Sarah said. "Come on, let's go. We can stop at the market before we get on the train."

"Can we even get alcohol around here at this time in the morning?" Evelyn asked, following her out into the corridor and locking the door behind them.

"Of course we can, if you know where to go."

'Where to go' turned out to be a rather dodgy looking grocery store on the corner where Sarah purchased a litre bottle of vodka, poured generous measures into each bottle and then topped them up with lemonade.

"Wow..." Evelyn said, grimacing at the taste. "That's strong stuff. You do realise we're in our forties, Sarah, right? We're not twenty-one heading off to a fraternity kegger."

"Will you stop being such a pussy?" Sarah said, as they started walking in the direction of the tube station. "Drink up and then we can get some wine in plastic cups when we get there if that'll make you feel more mature."

She did as she was bidden and, after the first few mouthfuls, it got easier...like many things in life. By the time they were emerging back out into the sunshine from Lancaster Gate station, three quarters of her bottle was empty and a pleasant feeling had already settled over her. Though it was early, the park was already thronging with people, young and old. The main stage was empty but there were already crowds of people in front of it, eagerly awaiting the arrival of whatever band it was. She had read the headlining list in the paper, but no names had jumped out at her. All around, there were various vans and tents selling all manner of food and drink and as she and Sarah threaded their way towards one of them, she felt her stomach growl with hunger and suddenly remembered that she hadn't eaten since the previous day.

"I'm starving," Sarah said, as though reading her mind. "Do you want a burger or something?"

"Sure," she replied, and moments later they were biting into large, dripping burgers encased in soft white rolls, the type that left flour on your lips and made it look as though you had been snorting coke.

"God I'm glad the kids didn't want to come," Sarah sighed, licking red sauce from her fingers. "I'm _so_ looking forward to a Saturday where I'm not beholden to their every fucking whim."

"I would have thought this would have been more their scene than yours," Evelyn remarked.

"And have them be seen in public with their mother? No way. Nick's taking them to some cricket match instead. Honestly, they're so English sometimes."

"They _are_ English," Evelyn giggled. "They were born here, remember?"

"Don't remind me." Sarah wiped her mouth with a napkin and then tossed it into a nearby trashcan. "Ok, let's get some more drinks."

"Maybe we should pace ourselves a bit."

"Evelyn..." Sarah turned to her, a look of mock annoyance on her face. "We are here to have a good time, ok? And part of having a good time is getting drunk. I can't remember the last time I even _was_ drunk, can you?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Now, stop being a pussy and let's go." Evelyn paused, watching her as she walked in the direction of one of the tents. It felt like being back in high school, back when Jessica Cooper had persuaded her to go to the park and drink cheap cider one Sunday afternoon to the point where she had been violently ill and ended up in hospital having her stomach pumped. Her parents had _not_ been impressed. Peer pressure could be a terrible thing, but then this was different...this was family.

"Are you coming or not?" Sarah called, putting her hands on her hips and surveying her disapprovingly.

"Yeah," she said finally. "I'm coming."

**New York**

_Le Monde_ was one of the most upmarket venues in the city and though he had, briefly, considered the brown jacket Peter seemed so dead set against, Ben had eventually decided to opt for a navy blue suit that he had forgotten he even owned. It had been at the back of the closet, hidden behind his work attire and when he had tried it on, mercifully, it had still fitted, though he had to acknowledge he had put on a few pounds over the last few months. Maybe he should join a gym, or take up jogging. That seemed to be the 'in' thing these days.

He examined his reflection critically and, for the first time in a long time, he felt nervous. He was walking into an unknown situation, very much the outsider. He wasn't EADA Benjamin Stone any more, a title that, rightly or wrongly, commanded some respect.

He was nobody.

He imagined Evelyn being there, straightening his tie, brushing imaginary fluff from his shoulder, kissing him and telling him that everything would be fine.

But she wasn't there.

He was alone...again.

The cab was late and there was construction on 7th Avenue which held them up longer than he had hoped it would, so it was fully twenty after seven by the time he arrived at the venue. Fortunately, the event was well signposted with a large placard bearing the university crest and, when he went inside, he was offered a complimentary glass of champagne by a stiff looking waitress. She was certainly less appealing than the one from the bar the previous week, but he reminded himself that the less he thought about that, the better.

The place was crowded. He looked around for any sign of a familiar face but quickly realised that he knew no-one. It wasn't like a bar association dinner where he practically knew everyone and, whether he liked them or not, at least had the ability to strike up a conversation. This was academia. A whole different ballgame. A whole different world. He suddenly wondered that, if he did find someone to talk to, what would they even talk about?

_I wish you were here. Coming in here with you would have been a million times easier._

The champagne was good, clearly no expense having been spared, and he drained his glass far too quickly in order to give himself reason to head over to the bar. There was a certain safety about standing at a bar. No-one questioned why you might be on your own...not really.

"Scotch please," he ordered when the bartender came over to him. "Make it a double."

"Taking full advantage of the free bar?" He turned at the sound of a familiar voice and saw her crossing the room towards him, her hair piled up on top of her head, the deep blue dress she was wearing only serving to highlight the richness of her skin. She leaned against the bar next to him, subconsciously or otherwise, displaying herself at her best advantage, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "I wouldn't have thought this was your sort of thing."

"It isn't, usually," he replied, resisting the urge to look her up and down.

"And yet..." she gestured to him. "What are you even doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"I volunteer my time helping students staff the law clinic," she replied, somewhat smugly. "It's a very rewarding way to spend your free time. You should try it sometime, especially now you have so much of it. Free time that is."

He chose not to rise to her bait. The only thing that could possibly make the evening even more stressful would be getting into a fight with her. "Maybe I will."

"Come off it, Ben," she laughed, "I can't see you doing that any more than I can see you joining us down at the public defenders' office. We're always looking for staff by the way. We've got more cases than we can deal with."

"It's a kind offer but..."

"I wasn't offering. You'd need to go through a _very_ rigorous interview process, like everyone else. You'd need to convince us why you wanted the job." She cocked her head to one side. "I have to say, I'd pay to hear the answer to that."

"Well, seeing as I won't be applying, you can rest assured that your money's safe." He accepted the drink from the bartender and drank half of it in one go.

"No...somehow I don't think you'd quite fit in there," she regarded him carefully. "You're a brilliant attorney, but I doubt you're creative enough."

"Creative as in being able to fabricate a defence to a murder charge?" he shot back before he could stop himself. "Is that what you mean?"

"Ben!" Charles suddenly appeared and clapped him on the shoulder, putting paid to whatever cutting remark she had been about to make. "I'm glad you're here. I was beginning to think that you weren't going to make it."

"The traffic was bad," he offered.

"When isn't it? You obviously know Shambala Green then."

"Yes, we know each other."

"Well of course you do," Charles said. "I'm sure you've been on the opposing side of a case on more than one occasion. Shambala is one of our faculty's greatest assets," he continued proudly. "I keep trying to persuade her that a life in academia would be a great move for her but so far, she's resisted. Maybe you can convince her." Shambala raised her eyebrows. "Oh, I've offered Ben the vacant professorship."

"Really? Congratulations."

"I haven't accepted yet."

"Any why wouldn't you?" she asked. "It's the ideal move for you. A captive audience of young minds just waiting for you to indoctrinate them."

He opened his mouth to reply, but she merely raised her glass to him and then disappeared off into the crowd.

"Well..." Charles said, "Shambala is nothing if not direct."

"It's not the word I would have used," he said tightly, draining his glass and turning back to the bartender. "Same again please."

"Make that two," Charles said. "And then I want you to come and meet Peter Fenton, our Dean. If you haven't decided to take the job then I guarantee that, after speaking to him, you will. Passionate doesn't even begin to cover it."

"No," Ben said, lifting his newly filled glass, "I'm sure it doesn't."

**London**

She wasn't sure what time it was.

She wasn't sure where Sarah was.

She wasn't sure how much she'd had to drink.

She didn't know who she was talking to.

**New York**

_Charles was right. Passionate_ didn't _even begin to cover it._

Talking to Peter Fenton had been like talking to a man out of his mind on speed. The words had just tumbled out, every phrase a glowing indictment of how wonderful it was to be a professor, how he would be shaping young minds, how it would be the best thing he would ever do, how he would wonder how he ever spent so many years in a courtroom. Trying to keep up hadn't been easy and, when he had finally managed to excuse himself on the pretext of needing to go to the bathroom, he had felt his head start to buzz with all the information it had absorbed.

Or maybe it was the scotch.

It was almost eleven and the atmosphere in the room had changed ever so slightly. The effects of the alcohol were beginning to show. People were becoming louder, their laughter more raucous, their guards lowering...it was a heady combination and he found himself drifting back to the bar again and ordering another scotch. He couldn't remember how many he'd had and, as he waited, he found himself looking around, half expecting Lennie to appear to cut him off.

Instead, he saw Shambala watching him. She was, to all intents and purposes, conversing with another couple of women but she was facing him and her eyes kept drifting to meet his gaze. He had never really thought about it before, or maybe he just hadn't let himself realise he had thought about it before, but she was a good-looking woman. The bartender passed him his glass and he sipped the contents carefully, keeping his eyes on her, until she broke away from her companions and came over to him.

"I saw you talking to Fenton," she said. "That man sucks oxygen like it was going out of fashion."

"He certainly knows how to sell the place."

"Maybe you could convince him to create a special class for you. Racial equality under the law. I think you'd be good at teaching that."

"You know..." he shook his head. "You have a damn nerve trying to make what happened in that trial all about me. I'm not the one who tried to put forward a ridiculous not to mention fraudulent defence..."

"It was _not_ fraudulent!" she snapped. "I had all the necessary evidence that I needed to prove my point. Dr Janson was a compelling witness..."

"Oh come on Shambala," he drained his glass and swiftly ordered another. "He was an idiot. Did you really not see my point about a lynching coming? Not to mention the fact that your prejudicial questioning of Joshua Berger ultimately didn't do your client any favours either."

"I still got an acquittal out of it."

"A hung jury is not an acquittal."

"Really? I don't see any sign of your office re-indicting. Sorry," she held up her hands. "I forgot. It's not your office anymore." He felt himself blanch slightly at her words and it must have shown on his face as her triumphant expression faded slightly. "I'm sorry. That was a cheap shot."

He lifted the newly filled glass and drank half in one go. "Isaac Roberts killed John DeSantos and he's walking the streets right now without a care in the world. If that doesn't bother you, then you're not the person I thought you were."

"And just what kind of person did you think I was?"

He moved closer to her. "Someone who had fire and passion but, most of all, integrity."

"I resent the implication that I..."

"Resent it all you want, it's how I feel." His eyes roamed over her face, his head buzzing, his belly warm, his blood up. She smelled good. He wondered what perfume she was wearing.

She frowned at him, "What are you doing?"

"Looking at you," he admitted.

"Why?"

"Do I need a reason?"

"Yes," she said, "yes you do. Particularly when you're already involved with someone else."

"Huh..." he took another drink. "She left me, remember?"

"Ben..."

"You know, she told me once that she thought you had a thing for me."

"Really."

"Do you?"

She stepped closer to him and lowered her voice. "Do you want this job?"

"It's already mine, apparently."

"Well then I suggest you don't start off on the wrong foot and sober up."

"I'm not drunk," he protested.

"No? Maybe not yet but you're headed that way." She gestured to the barman. "Can we have some water please?"

"Oh for God's sake..." he sighed. "I have to be drunk to look at you? I'm a man, you're a woman. Anyway, you didn't answer my question."

"It was a ridiculous question."

"Why? Because you're embarrassed by the answer?"

She paused for a long moment. "Ben...I have always respected you, as an attorney and as a man and yes, if you want to know the truth, it _has_ crossed my mind over the years that if you and I were to metaphorically strip away all of our prejudices then, one day, something could happen between us."

"But...?"

Shambala sighed and shook her head, "But I've looked in your eyes and I've seen what's there."

"And what's there?"

"The memory of a woman that you love very much," she said softly. "A woman who, to you, compares with no-one. A woman you miss more than you even know how to articulate. A woman that you're desperate to have in your arms again, no matter how much you might try to pretend otherwise. This..." she gestured to him. "This cheap talk isn't you."

He said nothing. What could he say?

She was right.

"Why didn't you stop her?"

He drained the rest of his glass and placed it back down gently on the bar. "I tried...but she had made up her mind." He looked at the glass of water sat beside it. "I feel..." he felt a lump in his throat and pushed it down as hard as he could. The last thing he wanted to do was get emotional and the scotch certainly wasn't helping with that. "I'm lonely without her."

Shambala put her hand on his arm. "Then go to her."

He shook his head, "I can't."

"Why not?"

"And have her tell me that it was a wasted trip? Have her tell me that nothing's changed? I'm all for a bit of self-flagellation but...I couldn't take that again."

She said nothing for a long moment, her hand still on his arm, a silent show of support. "I'm so sorry."

"She has a new life now and I suppose I have to make one for myself too. Starting with accepting this job." He lifted the water and drank some from the glass before eyeing her slightly sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."

"Forget it. If you're taking this job does this mean I have to start addressing you as Professor Stone?"

He laughed, "I guess so. Makes me sound about a hundred."

"Well," she smiled impishly. "You're at least halfway there."


	8. Chapter 8

**New York**

_I don't know what you've done to me. Before I met you I was doing fine. I worked, I knew how to talk to people, I lived my life the way I thought I should. Sure, there were issues with the kids but leaving that aside...I was ok. Now, post-you, I don't know what the hell I'm doing anymore. Tonight I drank far too much scotch and almost made a huge fool of myself in front of someone I respect. I don't even know why I'm saying_ almost. _I_ did _make a huge fool of myself. Why is that? Why can't I just be normal again? Why do I have to think about you all the damn time? Why are you always there? Jesus, is this how you felt about Edward? If so, then I'm sorry that I wasn't more sympathetic because this is fucking torture._

_She was right. I'm desperate to hold you in my arms again and I can't. I can't because you won't let me. Why? Why have you done this to me? You must have known how much this would have hurt me._

_Sometimes I even think that I hate you, even though I know I love you._

He tossed his pen down and put his head in his hands. It hadn't been his intention to turn to his journal when he got home, but rather go to bed and pretend at least half the evening hadn't happened. Like all good plans though, it had gone to pot as he had sat in the back of the cab thinking over everything. It was almost second nature now to put his thoughts down on paper, even if she would never read it.

He rubbed his hands over his face and got to his feet, turning towards the bedroom and seeing for the first time the light blinking on the answering machine. Robotically, he pressed the button and Laura's voice filled the air.

_Ben, it's me. Listen, can you call me when you get this please? It's important. Thanks._

His heart raced as he lifted the phone and punched in her number, hoping that nothing was wrong with the kids. After seven rings that appeared to last for eternity, she answered. "Laura?"

"Ben?" Her voice sounded hoarse and scratchy, as though she had just woken up. "Do you know what time it is?"

He glanced at the clock and saw that it was after midnight. "Your message said it was important."

"Peter said you were going to some drinks reception so I just assumed..."

"What's wrong?" he interrupted her. "Are the kids ok?"

"Yes..." she said, sounding more awake, "they're fine, but I was thinking that maybe instead of me putting them on the train tomorrow, you could drive up and collect them. Maybe you could come early and we could all have dinner together."

"Well...I suppose..." he hesitated, confused, "but why? What's the problem?"

"There's no problem, but I think we need to talk about Pamela."

"Why? What's happened? Has she said something?"

"Look, if you just come up tomorrow then you and I can have a talk about it..."

"Laura, for fuck's sake!" he swore. "You can't just say things like that and then not tell me what the problem is! Now, I know that Pam has been off-colour this week and I have _tried_ to find out what has been bothering her but she won't tell me. If she's told you, I want to know!"

Laura paused and then sighed heavily. "She didn't want to tell me, but I managed to get it out of her."

"Get _what_ out of her?!"

"She said that she talked to Evelyn last weekend."

He paused, feeling the air still around him. "She did what?"

"Pam called her. Apparently it wasn't the first time but...she said that Evelyn said some things that upset her."

His mind raced. "What kind of things?"

"Ben, I'd rather have this conversation face to face if you don't mind. Now, will you come up tomorrow or not?"

"But..."

"Well?"

"Yes," he said finally. "Yes, I'll come up."

"Good," she said. "We'll see you...when...about six?"

"Six is fine."

"Ok then." She paused. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." He slowly replaced the receiver and stared at it for a long moment. Pamela had talked to Evelyn...Evelyn had upset her...what the hell had been said?

 _What have you done to my daughter?_ he wrote in a hurried post-script. _What the hell have you done to my daughter?_

**London**

The light hurt her eyes.

Her head ached. It felt as though her brain was expanding and pushing against the bones of her skull, desperately trying to burst through and explode. She moaned softly and buried her head in the pillow trying to block everything out, but the pounding continued.

She had barely any recollection of, what she assumed, was the previous day. She had followed Sarah into the tent where they had bought large plastic pint glasses filled with cheap wine and after that...it was all fairly hazy. There had been men though, she was pretty sure about that, and laughter...

Dragging herself to the edge of the bed, she tried to sit up and immediately a wave of nausea washed over her, causing her to lurch forward onto the floor.

"Shit..." she whispered. "Shit, shit, shit..." her stomach heaved again and she suddenly realised that she wasn't in her own flat, but rather in one of Sarah's spare rooms. Fortunately, it was one that had a connecting bathroom and she pulled herself to her knees and moved as fast as she could across the floor, pushing open the door and arranging herself over the bowl just as her innards exploded.

It seemed to go on forever, flowing out of her, her stomach aching with the effort of retching, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead. Her hearing started to fade and her vision grew hazy and all she could do was hold onto the side of the toilet until it stopped.

She slumped onto the floor, grateful for the coolness of the tiles and lay there until another wave hit and she pulled herself up to her knees again.

"Jesus, are you ok?"

For a moment, she couldn't answer, but finally she spat into the bowl, pulled the handle and sat back on the floor, her mouth burning with the acrid aftertaste. "I'm fine."

"I threw up during the night too. I woke Nick up and he told me I was a disgrace." Evelyn pushed her hair back from her face, opened her eyes and saw Sarah leaning against the doorframe. "I told him it was worth it."

"I'm glad you think so."

"Do you want a hand up?"

"No...no just let me sit here a bit. I don't know if I'm done yet." Sarah moved over to the bed and sat down on the edge, still visible. "How did we even get back here?"

"Taxi, though the driver wasn't keen to take us. You were pretty out of it. How much did you have?"

"I don't remember," she replied honestly. "I don't remember anything after going into the tent and getting the wine."

"Really? You don't remember the hot guys? The ones we got talking to beside the stage?"

"No."

"Wow. That was pretty early on too and the blond one seemed really into you. Did you have more to drink when we weren't together?"

Evelyn opened her eyes and peered at her. "When were we not together?"

"I don't remember exactly, but there was definitely at least an hour when I lost track of you. The music was so loud and there were so many people..."

She felt herself shudder. "Did I...did I have sex with anyone?"

Sarah stared at her, "What?"

"Did I have sex with anyone?"

"Why would you ask me that?"

"I don't know, I just..."

"We were in the middle of Hyde Park!" Sarah paused. "Do you think that you did?"

She slid her hand down under her knickers, searching for the tell-tale signs. There was no slippery feeling and she didn't feel sore, but then of course that could mean nothing. How long ago might it have been?

"Evelyn..." Sarah looked concerned. "Did something happen with one of the guys?"

"No," she replied hurriedly. "No, I just wondered..."

"Why would you even wonder that? Are you in the habit of getting completely shitfaced and sleeping with random men?" She said nothing. "Evelyn...Jesus..."

"It's nothing..."

"I thought you were sleeping with Alex?"

"I slept with him a couple of times."

"And who else have you slept with?" Again, she said nothing. After all, she wasn't sure she remembered their names. "Ok, listen..."

"Forget it."

"No, I won't forget it." Sarah got to her feet. "We need to get to a pharmacy."

Evelyn closed her eyes again. "What for?"

"For the morning after pill of course."

"I don't know if I even _had_ sex," she protested.

"Exactly," Sarah said, "all the more reason to take it. And then tomorrow you need to go to the GUM clinic and get tested."

"For what?"

"Anything and everything. God, I can't believe you've been so reckless! How did I not know about this?"

"You're not my keeper," she said. "I'm a grown woman. Besides, you told me to have fun."

"I told you to have some fun with Alex! I didn't tell you to go out and pick up random men off the street!"

"That's _not_ what I've been doing. Besides, any sex I may or may not have had has always been safe."

"How would you even know? You've just said that you don't remember whether you had sex yesterday or not!"

"Stop shouting..." Evelyn protested. "My head is killing me as it is."

"Well I'm going downstairs to make some coffee. You should get yourself cleaned up, have some breakfast and then we're going."

"What are you going to tell Nick?"

"I'll say we're going for a walk to clear our heads." Sarah shook her head. "What in God's name have you been doing?"

She tried to answer, but another wave of nausea hit her and for the next few minutes, the only person she could speak to was the toilet bowl.

**Hartford**

"Hi," Laura said when she opened the door. "It was good of you to come up."

"Where are the kids?" Ben asked, as he followed her inside.

"They're over at the park with some friends. I told them to be back by six-thirty. I thought that would give us some time to talk."

"What did Pamela say?" he asked, cutting to the chase.

Laura moved over to the cooker and, lifting a wooden spoon, stirred the contents of a large pot. By the aroma, he could tell that it was chilli. It had always been one of his favourites. "Do you want to taste it?" she asked, holding out the spoon.

"No," he shook his head, "I just want you to tell me what Pam said."

She put a lid on the pot and then sat down at the table. "She said that she had called Evelyn the previous night, last Friday, from her friend Rachel's house."

"How did she even get the number?"

"I don't know, she said something about the international operator," Laura waved her hand. "Anyway, she said Evelyn had told her that she could call her again sometime if she wanted to. So, she called her the following day from the park...and she said that Evelyn was drunk, very drunk, and that she wasn't making a lot of sense."

"But what did Evelyn _say_?"

"Apparently she was crying, swearing, saying that she wasn't ok, asking where you were..." Laura looked at him. "Pam said that she offered to get you to the phone but Evelyn told her no, shouted at her to go away and slammed the phone down."

Silently he digested the information.

_It was late afternoon when Pamela made the phone call, so night time in London. Maybe Evelyn had been out for a few drinks...maybe she hadn't been expecting Pam to call...maybe..._

"You don't look particularly concerned."

"Of course I'm concerned," he replied, "but I thought you were going to say she had been abusive to her."

"You think that wasn't abusive? Shouting and swearing at a thirteen year old? What would you call it then? Honestly..." Laura sighed. "When she told me about it I had half a mind to pick up the phone and call the bitch myself."

"Well it wouldn't be the first time, would it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about when you called her at work. When you berated her for what she had done to the kids. When you told her that it was just as well that she wasn't a mother herself."

She had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed, "That wasn't exactly what I said."

"No? You don't see the hypocrisy here? You're a mother who lost custody of her kids..."

"I'm well aware of the mistakes I've made Ben! But at the end of the day they are _my_ children and when I saw how upset they were over the fact that she had _suddenly_ decided to up and leave then, yeah, I was pissed and I wanted her to know it. And now she's upset Pamela again!" She paused. "Not to mention the fact that _you_ look pretty hellish too."

"I'm fine," he replied automatically.

"Are you?" she got to her feet and moved over to the stove as the pot started to bubble. "I have to say...I was surprised when Peter told me you'd quit your job. No, in fact, make that _astounded._ I always thought that you and the DA's office were one in the same."

"Yeah well...things change."

"Apparently they do. Peter also said you'd been offered a job teaching at Columbia." He nodded. "Are you going to take it?"

"I accepted it last night at the reception."

"Well..." She wiped her hands on a cloth. "Maybe it'll do you good to try something new."

"Maybe."

"You know...the weekends that I have the kids...you're always welcome to come up if..." she broke off at the sound of the front door slamming and Peter and Pamela appeared in the kitchen. "Just in time. Dinner's almost ready."

"Hey Dad," Peter said. "How did the reception go?"

"Fine," he replied brightly. "You'll be pleased to hear that I didn't wear the brown jacket."

"Thank God. What did you wear?"

"A navy suit."

"Nice," Peter nodded in approval.

"Not the same navy suit that you bought for Alice Hooper's christening?" Laura commented, bending to lift plates out of the cupboard.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "It was in the closet and I don't remember buying it recently so I must have had it for a while."

"That was twelve years ago!" she laughed. "I'm amazed it would even fit you now."

"Thanks very much," he replied. "To be fair, it was a little tight."

"You need to exercise more," Peter said.

"Yeah, you're probably right." Ben met Pamela's gaze across the table and couldn't help but notice that she still looked worried. "It's ok," he said quietly. "We'll talk later."

She nodded in understanding as her mother placed the pot in the middle of the table and started dishing out plates.

"Well, isn't this nice," Laura said, once they were all seated.

"Yes," Ben agreed, "it's great."

The conversation flowed easily around the table and by the time dinner was finished, Pamela seemed more relaxed. Laura had tried to persuade them all to stay a little longer, but mindful of the journey back and the fact that the kids had school the next day, Ben declined. He was also keen to talk to Pamela without Laura hovering nearby.

"You know, it's ok to be upset," he said when they hit the freeway. "You weren't expecting her to be like that with you."

"She was fine when I called her before," Pamela replied. "I mean, I know I woke her up and everything, but she was fine. She said I could call her again if I wanted to."

"She probably wasn't expecting you to call her again so soon."

"Maybe...but she just sounded so awful, Dad. She was crying so hard..."

He gripped the steering wheel tightly, unsure exactly how to feel. He found himself torn between anger towards Evelyn for how she had behaved and worry at the fact she had behaved that way at all.

_It's not like her. You know it's not like her._

"She wanted to know where you were but when I said I would get you she said no." She looked over at him. "Maybe you could call her."

"Don't worry," he replied, having reached the same conclusion in his own mind. "I intend to."

**June 1994**

**Four days later**

"I don't know what you're talking about Ben. Evelyn's absolutely fine."

"Then why can I never reach her?" Ben replied, frustrated. "I've left a dozen messages for her at your office and she never calls me back. Every time I try to call her apartment it just rings out..."

"She's a busy woman! She has an important job here and when she's not working she's...letting off steam."

"What does that even _mean_?"

"What do _you_ think it means?"

He didn't say anything. In all honesty, he didn't really want to think about what it meant.

"Look, I'll tell her that you called and, if she wants to talk to you, I'm sure that she'll call you back. That's the best I can do."

"No Sarah," he snapped, "I really don't think it is." Before she could reply, he slammed the phone down and then kicked the corner of the couch for good measure. Ever since he had found out the content of Pamela's phone call to Evelyn, he had been trying to speak to her about it. But, as he had said to Sarah, every attempt had been thwarted.

 _I'd be quicker just getting on a Goddamn plane and flying over there,_ he had written the previous night. _I know you're avoiding me._ _I need to talk to you. I need to know what's going on._

As he sat staring at the phone, it suddenly rang out and he snatched up the receiver. "Evelyn?"

"Uh...no...it's Jack."

"Oh...sorry," Ben said. "I thought it might be...sorry."

"No problem. I'm sorry to call you so early."

He glanced at his watch and saw that it was just after seven am. The kids weren't even up yet, but he had wanted to try London early in the hope of catching Evelyn before lunch.

_So much for that idea._

"It's fine," he replied, pulling himself back to the present. "What's up? I hope you're not on to ask my advice on a case."

"Well, in a manner of speaking, yes I am," Jack replied.

"Oh?"

"Yeah...listen, I was hoping you might be able to come down to the office this morning."

"What for?"

"The cops picked up a guy last night for a minor mugging, guy named Ralph McQueen?"

"Never heard of him."

"He's pretty small time, few convictions in the past for petty larceny, minor assault, that sort of thing, but he's on probation so, a conviction for this latest offence is liable to see him back inside fairly quickly. Needless to say, he's not too keen on that idea."

"So, he's got something to offer?"

"You could say that," Jack said. "Turns out he used to work for one Robert O'Reilly and, for a total walk, he says that he can point the finger at exactly who shot Evelyn."


	9. Chapter 9

**London**

"So...I just got off the phone with Ben."

Evelyn looked up as Sarah came into her office, her stomach turning over just at the mention of his name. The guilt she had felt since the previous weekend, magnified tenfold by the fact she couldn't remember exactly what she had done, had been crippling and every evening since, wine had been her solace. She had been late to work twice already that week, but her cousin appeared to have simply let it go. "Oh?"

"Yeah. He said he's called a bunch of times but you've never called him back."

_How can I talk to him? How can I hear his voice? I can't..._

"I've been busy."

"That's what I told him," she sat down in the chair opposite. "But why don't you tell me the real reason."

"That _is_ the real reason."

"So it's not because you've been..."

"Because I've been what, Sarah?" she snapped. "Sleeping around? Is that what you wanted to say? You've never been backwards about coming forwards so just say what you mean."

"That wasn't what I was going to say actually," Sarah replied. "I was going to say that maybe you didn't want to talk to him because of Alex." She paused. "Sounds like you've got a guilty conscience though."

"What would you know about it?"

"Nothing, clearly."

Evelyn ran her hands over her face, "You have no idea what I'm going through right now. You just don't understand..."

"Then tell me. Help me to understand. Maybe I can help."

"How? By telling me to go out and 'have fun'? That kind of help?"

Sarah's face darkened, "I never told you to go out and sleep with random men, Evelyn, and you know that. You've never been like that. You've never been a..."

"A what? A slut?"

"That wasn't..."

"Don't worry, I know what I am." Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. "I don't need you to tell me. You think I didn't feel ashamed swallowing that pill? You think I didn't feel like shit going to that clinic? I'm forty-one years old for Christ's sake. That nurse looked at me like I was some sort of idiot!"

"I'm sure that she didn't..."

"She did!" Her eyes started to blur. "She did and I...I wanted to say something really ultra-feminist about it like...like 'if I want to use my body for pleasure then I will.' But I couldn't. I couldn't because...because I have hated it every single time..."

Sarah leaned forward in her chair. "Then I don't understand. Why are you...?"

"Because I want to feel something! Because I want to pretend that every one of them is him! Because I miss him so much..." she dissolved into tears before she could stop herself, hearing the click of the door as Sarah closed it and then felt her arm around her shoulder. "I've made such a mess of everything, Sarah...such a fucking mess..."

"Ok...ok, I get that. I get that you miss him..."

"I love him..."

"I know." Sarah's arm tightened around her then she drew back and crouched next to her chair. "Why didn't you tell me this before?" Evelyn shrugged. "Jesus, I wouldn't have told you to sleep with Alex if I'd known this was how you felt. But I thought that you were struggling to deal with Edward and his kid and that Ben was stifling you. That was certainly the impression you gave me. That's why I asked you to come here. That's why I told you to let loose. I just thought that you needed a bit of fun for a change. I thought you needed to be carefree."

"Carefree..." Evelyn mocked. "That's a fucking joke. Do I look like I'm fucking carefree?"

"No, you don't." Sarah sighed. "When are you due your results back?"

"Tomorrow, but I doubt they'll show anything. I know I've been an idiot but I really have been careful." She wiped her eyes furiously, her fingers darkening with mascara. "God, he would be so ashamed of me..."

"Who?"

"Ben! If he only knew..." she put her head in her hands. "Even if he still cared anything for me, which I doubt, he would hate me if he knew what I'd been doing."

"I don't think that man could ever hate you. I've seen the way he looks at you, remember? Not to mention the fact he wanted to organise a surprise wedding for you." She paused again. "The other men...is that why you've been avoiding his calls?"

"Well...that and..."

"And what?"

She lifted her head and let out a shuddering breath. "Pamela called me, two weeks ago."

"His daughter?"

Evelyn nodded. "She woke me up, it was like...five in the morning and, well, long story short I told her that she could call me again sometime if she wanted to. So, she called me the following day and..."

"And...?"

"And I barely remember the call."

Sarah frowned, "Why? What were you doing?"

"I was drunk."

"Ah..."

"I know that I upset her and no doubt she told Ben about it and that's why he's been calling. So he can berate me for it and I don't blame him, really I don't. I just..." she shook her head. "I just don't think that I could take it on top of everything else right now."

"Oh Evelyn..." Sarah sighed, hugging her awkwardly again. "I'm so sorry that you feel like this, I really am. What can I do to help?"

"Nothing," she replied brokenly. "There's nothing that anybody can do. The only person who can deal with it is me."

"And how do you propose to do that?"

"I don't know," she sighed heavily. "I really don't know."

**New York**

It was strange walking into One Hogan Place as a regular civilian rather than as a member of staff. Signing in and receiving a visitors pass felt alien somehow, even though Chris the security guard, greeted him as he always had done, as if nothing had changed.

But everything had changed.

He took the elevator up to the sixth floor and suddenly wondered if there was a way to get to Jack office bypassing his own. He didn't know if they had filled his post yet or not, and though it had been his decision to leave, he wasn't sure he really wanted to see anyone else sitting in what had once been his chair.

"Mr Stone!" Celia greeted him warmly as he stepped off the elevator. "It's good to see you!"

"You too. I'm here to see Mr McCoy," he said, lest she wanted to engage him in general conversation. "Do you happen to know if he's in his office?"

"He and Ms Kincaid are in the conference room," she said, gesturing around the corner. "They did tell me to keep an eye out for you."

"Thanks."

"Stop by before you leave!" she urged, as he turned away from her.

"Ok," he replied, though he wasn't convinced he would follow through. He made his way around the corner, passing people that he had seen every day for years, some who smiled and greeted him and others who lowered their eyes. It was a strange feeling. He knew why he had left. He knew how responsible he felt for what had happened, but it was odd to think that others did too.

"Ben, good of you to come down," Jack got to his feet when he knocked on and then opened the conference room door.

"I could hardly not come down," he replied, taking a seat at the table and smiling at Claire. "I'm glad that you called. How much do you know?"

Jack smiled, "What about a 'how are you' first from me to you?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

"How have things been since you left?"

"Ok," he said, wishing they could just get down to business but polite enough not to insist upon it. "It's been good spending more time with the kids and I've accepted an offer to lecture at Columbia."

"That's great!" Claire enthused. "Sounds like just your thing."

His mind flitted briefly back to what Shambala had said at the reception and wondered, for a moment, if Claire was thinking the same thing, but her expression was genuine and he elected to give her the benefit of the doubt. "I don't start until September, but I'm looking forward to it." He looked meaningfully at Jack.

"So...Ralph McQueen," Jack said, picking up on his eagerness. "Like I said on the phone, he's got a yellow sheet stretching back a good few years now and he's looking at spending the next three to five in jail for his latest foray into criminal activity..."

"Who picked him up?" Ben interrupted.

"Two cops from the 19th precinct. They took him in for booking and he started spilling his guts saying that he could name names regarding who shot the lawyer. Took the cops a while to figure out what he was referring to but, once they did, they contacted Briscoe and Logan and they called us."

"You said he used to work for O'Reilly?"

"Yes as a driver, but he says he was fired earlier this year for bad timekeeping." Ben raised his eyebrows. "I know it was my gut reaction too."

"Revenge?"

"Possibly, but right now I'm willing to consider all possibilities."

"He claims that, on the night of the shooting, he was asked, by a person yet to be named, to drive the assailants to Evelyn's apartment," Claire said. "He says that he wasn't told the purpose of the visit but that he was to drop them off, park around the corner and then wait for them to come back."

"So he can name them," Ben said.

Jack nodded, "But not only that...he claims that he got restless waiting around, so he got out of the car, went around the corner to try and see what was going on..."

"He actually witnessed it?"

"Yes."

"How do you know he's telling the truth?"

Jack and Claire exchanged glances. "He says that he saw the first assailant strike a man on the back of the head with the butt of a pistol before the second assailant shot the woman," the former said. "Now, although it was reported that you were also injured in the attack, there was no mention of how. So we're inclined to believe him."

"Out of interest," Claire said. "Do you remember seeing anyone else on the street that night?"

Ben shook his head. "Until they hit me, I had no idea there were even two people there. All I was focused on at the time was the man with the gun and protecting Evelyn." He paused, a shiver running through him at the memory of that night and how badly he had failed...again. "So, what does McQueen want?"

"Immunity for the burglary, plus witness protection if he names names," Jack said. "That isn't a problem, the burglary charge is fairly minor..."

"But?"

"Ben...this could put both you and Evelyn in a difficult position. If McQueen _does_ name the people involved, and we pick them up, then we'll need you to see if you can identify them in a lineup and, if you can we may need you to testify and if there is a connection to the Lucchese family..."

He sat in silence for a long moment. Wasn't this exactly what he had thought a few weeks earlier when he had tried to rationalise his dealings with Ann Madsen to himself? The possibility of being confronted with exactly the same scenario in his own life?

How could he say no?

"I understand," he said finally. "Whatever you need, from me, I can do."

"Ok," Jack nodded slowly. "Um...obviously we'll need to update Evelyn. Do you want to tell her or would you prefer I do it."

_Well she won't take my calls..._

"It might be better coming from you," he said. "In an official capacity."

"Ok," Jack nodded. "I'll call her and as soon as we have relevant people in custody, I'll let you know."

"Thanks," Ben said, getting to his feet. "I appreciate it."

 _Maybe..._ he thought as he got back into the elevator, managing to avoid Celia, _maybe hearing from Jack might spur her to call me. Maybe I can talk to her about all of this. Maybe I can tell her how much I miss her._

**London**

"There's a Jack McCoy on the phone for you."

"Jack McCoy?" Evelyn echoed.

"Yes," Lynnette, the receptionist replied. "He said he's calling from the Manhattan District Attorney's office, whatever that is."

Despite everything, Evelyn found herself trying to suppress a smile. Lynnette was new, no older than nineteen, and not exactly wordly wise on many things, least of all the US justice system. "Thanks, put him through." She waited for the line to click. "Jack?"

"Hi," he greeted her warmly. "How are you?"

"I'm good, thank you," she lied.

"How are you finding London?"

"Oh it's great, though I have to admit it's nice to hear from a fellow native. Sarah's accent is diminishing and I constantly have to repeat myself."

"Well you won't have to do that with me," he reassured her.

"Thank God." She listened as he explained the purpose of his call, butterflies moving around in her stomach as the enormity of what he was saying slowly sank in. "You think the information is good?"

"Well we won't know until he gives us names and the cops can investigate...but I'm hopeful. How do you feel about it?"

_How do I feel...? What a question. I'd be a mother now if it wasn't for them._

Her hand slid to her stomach and she traced the scar through her blouse. "I think if we find out who did it then that has to be a good thing."

"You realise what I'm saying about identification though, right?"

_These people...these people are dangerous...my life could be in danger, that's what you're saying..._

"Yes, I understand. I guess we'll just have to...wait and see."

"Sure." He paused. "I obviously don't expect you to come all the way back for a lineup. My plan would be to contact your own local police station and have relevant photographs faxed over for you to look at. Would that be ok with you?"

"Of course."

"Ok then. Well, I just wanted to keep you up to speed. I talked to Ben about it earlier and he asked me to call."

"He _asked_ you to call?" she seized on the information.

"Yeah, I figure he thought I would be less emotional about it than he would be."

"Yes...yes of course."

"Ok, well I guess I'll speak to you again soon. Give my love to the Queen won't you?"

"Sure," she said, as the line clicked off. "I will."

**New York**

It was just after six when the phone rang.

He had been changing in the bedroom, the kids lounging around in the living room waiting for dinner, so he shouted through that he would answer it and lifted the extension. "Hello?" There was a silence. "Hello?"

"Ben?"

He felt his heart slow, almost as if it was going to suddenly stop beating. It was the first time, the first time in weeks that he had heard her voice let alone heard her say his name. He sat down quickly on the bed.

"Evelyn?"

"Hi. I'm...I'm sorry, I'm guessing you might be at dinner but..."

"No...no not yet. It's...it's still cooking," he said, then felt ridiculous. "How are you?"

"Fine. You?"

"Ok." He paused, a million things running around in his head. The case, Pamela, how much he missed her...

"I got a call from Jack today," she said after a lengthy silence. "He said he spoke to you."

"Yes, yes he did. He told you about McQueen?"

"Yes. He seemed hopeful that his information might lead somewhere."

"I know. Though I suppose it depends on what he actually says..." he paused, hearing a soft popping sound followed by a clink and a gurgle coming down the line.

"We'd have to identify them."

"If we could."

"Yeah..." she paused. "I've been thinking about what happened that night ever since he called. I keep trying to picture the shooter's face. Sometimes, I think I see him so clearly and then other times...he's just a blur."

"I know what you mean."

"I keep seeing the eight week old baby we'd have now if it wasn't for them." Her voice shook slightly. "Our baby..." He closed his eyes, feeling the pain of her words and yet not knowing what to say to make it better for either of them. "I wonder if it would have been a boy or a girl. If they would have had your eyes and my colouring or the other way around. I wonder...if I would have been a good mother..."

_Oh my darling...you would have been a wonderful mother._

"There's no point in torturing ourselves," he replied, blinking back tears he hadn't even realised had formed.

"No, I guess not." There was another clink. "Claire told me you resigned because of what happened to your witness."

He paused, both at the abrupt change of direction of the conversation and at the revelation that she had spoken to Claire. "I didn't realise you had talked to her."

"Well I wasn't going to get anything out of that old dragon Celia now, was I? She always did hate me."

"No she didn't."

"She did."

"When did you talk to Claire?"

"I don't know, a few weeks ago? I still can't believe you quit. That job was your life."

_That old familiar phrase. Was I really like that? Is that really how everybody saw me?_

"No it wasn't, not latterly at least. The kids were my life. _Are_ my life." He took a breath. "And you." There was a silence, then a hiccup then another clink and he frowned. "Evelyn, are you drunk?"

"No..." she replied, in a tone that indicated exactly the opposite. "Well...maybe..."

The true reasoning of why he had been wanting to talk to her all week suddenly came flooding back, as though whatever screen she had pulled down over his eyes just by saying his name was being thrown back up, the thought of how much he loved and missed her tempered by the look he had seen on his daughter's face. "Pamela was very upset by your conversation the other week," he said, trying hard to keep his voice even and his temper in check.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but I didn't know she was going to call me that day. To be fair, I didn't know she was going to call me the previous day either. It was the middle of the fucking night where I am. She scared the shit out of me."

"So you think that what you said to her was all right then, do you?"

There was a pause. "To be honest...I don't really remember _what_ I said to her but the fact that you've been calling me every day this week would lead me to believe it wasn't good."

"You were crying, you asked where I was, she said she would get me and you shouted at her to go away. Does any of that ring a bell?"

"You're angry with me," she said in a small voice. "I can tell...I can tell that you're angry with me..."

"Yes I'm angry!" he retaliated before he could stop himself. "You upset my daughter, Evelyn! Admittedly you could have said a lot worse but Pam has been ill with worry about you ever since! The fact that she couldn't even tell me and had to tell her mother instead..."

"Oh yes...Laura. Saint fucking Laura," Evelyn sneered. "I'm sure the two of you have been having a _great_ time talking about me behind my back. How pathetic I am...how I'm not fit to be a mother, any mother. How does she feel about you leaving the DA's office Ben? Does she think it means she's going to get you back in her bed now? I suppose with things being so good between you and the kids now it's the obvious fucking next move, right? Or maybe you've already made it."

"And what about you?" he retorted childishly. "Sarah told me that you've been having a great time _blowing off steam...!_ "

There was silence, then a muffled sob.

"Evelyn?"

The dial tone sounded in his ear.

"Damn it," he swore softly. "Damn it, damn it, damn it..."


	10. Chapter 10

**London**

As Nick started pouring the wine, Evelyn held up her glass and met his surprised gaze with a level one of her own.

"This is a turn up for the books," he said, filling it and then stepping back. "You normally don't drink."

_Oh the irony..._

She took a delicate sip from the glass and decided it was probably best not to mention the fact that she had had a few glasses before even arriving for lunch. "It's Philip's birthday," she said, gesturing to their oldest boy seated at the head of the table. "If I can't drink to celebrate him turning eighteen, when _can_ I drink?"

"I agree with Evelyn," Philip said, waving his beer.

"You know, if we were in the States," she continued, "you'd still need to use your fake ID this evening instead of planning to go out to legally celebrate."

"Thank God we're not in the States then," he replied cheerily.

"Indeed." She took a longer drink, enjoying the sensation, as Sarah put the large casserole dish down in the middle of the table. It was Sunday, three days after she had spoken to Ben. Three days after their disastrous conversation. After she had put the phone down on him, it had rung again almost immediately. She hadn't answered and, when it had rung off, she had sat drinking the rest of her wine as it rang four more times before he eventually gave up. The silence had almost upset her more than his anger and she had eventually fallen into a tearful, drink induced sleep, waking up just in time to make it in to work.

She felt like shit.

The clinic had called with her results all of which, thankfully, had been negative.

"You really should ensure you practice safe sex for at least the next three months," the nurse had told her. "As you know, some conditions can take longer to become apparent than others."

"I always practice safe sex," she had replied irritably.

"Yes, of course."

She had put the phone down before the nurse could say anything further.

She was getting good at that.

"Well, here's to Philip," Sarah said, sitting down and lifting her own glass. "Happy birthday darling."

The sentiment was repeated around the table and Evelyn watched as he turned a slight shade of pink, remembering the red-faced baby he had been when he had first been born. She and Edward had been engaged at the time and she had desperately wanted to go to London to visit, but he had refused and when she had said that she would go on her own, he had told her that that just wouldn't be possible. It had been two years before Sarah had brought him over in time for their wedding, by which point he was past the cute baby stage and into the tantrum-laden toddler stage, which had just irritated Edward.

_Fucking prick. You never fucking loved me, you asshole._

She drained her glass and then turned to the food on the plate in front of her. Sarah was a good cook, she couldn't fault her for that especially when her own skills were so lacking, but looking at the meat in front of her made her stomach turn. Lifting her fork she took a little bit of it, mixed with potato, and tried to make it appear as though she was enjoying it as cutlery clinked around her. After two or three attempts, she instead reached over for the wine bottle and topped up her glass.

"So," Sarah said, causing her to glance over and realise her cousin was watching her. "Evelyn's got a big presentation coming up this week."

A chorus of 'ooohs' went around the table and it was Evelyn's turn to blush. Her last few meetings with the team for the O'Connell account had gone well and now the main man himself, Thomas O'Connell, was coming into the office and Sarah had tasked her with presenting the strategy to him. Thinking about it now, she felt the butterflies gather in her stomach. Years of standing up in court appeared to count for nothing anymore.

"I'm sure you'll do great," Nick's brother Dan said supportively.

"Thanks," she smiled gratefully at him, "I hope so."

"You've got the power point done already, haven't you?" Sarah asked in a tone that would have sounded casual to a passerby, but which Evelyn knew was laced with meaning.

"It's almost finished," she replied neutrally, trying some more of her food. "I just need to add in the last few bits and then it's good to go."

"Well, remember the meeting's on Wednesday."

She took a breath, biting her tongue to stop herself from sending back a completely inappropriate reply. After all, despite being her cousin, Sarah _was_ also her boss. "I know. I'll be ready."

"Good."

The talk turned back to generalities and, in the break before dessert, Evelyn wandered through into the living room and threw herself down onto the couch, freshly filled glass in hand. As the others drifted through to join her, she tried to participate in a conversation between Dan and his wife Elaine over whether they should spend a few days in Boston or Washington after a trip to Canada later in the summer, but found herself easily distracted. The large clock on the mantelpiece had a prominent second hand and she found her gaze transfixed as it ticked round and round the clock face, each circuit proof that another minute of life had gone by and what the fuck had she done with it.

"You should come out with me tonight, Evelyn," Philip's voice broke into her thoughts. "Then if I get knocked back from any clubs you can vouch for me."

"Ha!" she glanced at his smiling face only to see a fleeting look of panic cross Sarah's. "You don't want an old dog like me following you around all night. Besides, I don't think I could take too much of your kind of music." He laughed and she met Sarah's gaze again, pointedly trying to communicate to her that she had no intention of going out drinking with her precious son.

"You don't have to go _now_ ," Sarah said as she excused herself after the black forest gateau had been demolished. "Don't you want some coffee?"

"No thank you," she replied, pulling her jacket down from the peg by the door. "I'm stuffed."

"Alright then," Sarah lowered her voice. "Don't you think you _need_ some coffee?"

"Yet again we find you saying something by basically _not_."

"Evelyn..."

"Despite what you obviously think, I am _not_ drunk," she said, lifting her bag. "I'm going home to lie on the couch and watch some bad television if that's all right with you."

"Of course it is. I just...I just want you to know that I'm here for you if you need to talk about anything. I'd rather you did that than, I don't know, slowly drank yourself to death."

"If you're worried about the O'Connell presentation, then don't be."

"I wasn't..."

"I know what you meant when you brought it up. I am _not_ going to embarrass you or the company, ok? But what I do in my own private time is, frankly, none of your damn business." She leaned forward and kissed Sarah on the cheek. "Thanks for a lovely lunch, as always. I'll see you tomorrow." She turned on her heel and hurried down the path and out onto the street, blowing a final kiss before heading in the direction of the high street and the nearest tube station. The fresh air made her head start to buzz and the roar of the traffic seemed almost too loud. The lure of the nearest wine bar was strong. She would find something there...if she wanted it.

_You don't want it. You know you don't._

She needed quiet...peace...solitude.

Her fridge was full.

_I'll be fine._

**New York**

**Two days later**

"Antonio Lucci and Joey Scarpetta."

Ben shook his head, "The names don't mean anything to me."

"I didn't expect them to," Lennie replied. "Neither of them have a record."

"You're sure it's them?"

"They're the people McQueen named and we've nothing else to go on other than records confirming that they're on the O'Reilly payroll. We're looking to pick them up in the next hour or so. I'll give you a call when we need you to come down for the lineup."

"Ok, thanks for letting me know." He hung up the phone and sat staring at it for a long moment. Lucci and Scarpetta. Well, they might have worked for someone with an Irish name but their own hinted at a connection a little further east than the Emerald Isle and though he tried to push the thought from his mind, he couldn't help wondering where the hell it was all going to lead.

_A bullet in the street maybe?_

He knew from experience that picking up suspects 'in the next hour or so' could mean anytime depending on how keen they were to _be_ picked up. Then there would be the perennial wait for lawyers not to mention an interrogation before they even got to the lineup.

It was only just gone ten am.

He got to his feet and wandered aimlessly into the kitchen, wondering what he should do. He was supposed to be meeting Charles Webber at Columbia for a tour of the faculty at eleven-thirty followed by lunch with a few of the other professors. As a former defence attorney, he knew Charles would understand his predicament, but as the first step towards his new career, the timing couldn't have been worse.

_Don't be so damn selfish. One of these guys might have shot Evelyn...might have killed your baby..._

He turned back towards the phone, wondering if he should perhaps try and call her again, despite the fact she had made it clear by not answering that she wasn't interested in any further conversation beyond that which they had achieved the previous Thursday evening. He knew he could call her office, demand to be put through to her, tell the girl on reception to tell Evelyn it was to do with the shooting. Maybe then she would talk to him.

_Or maybe she'll just tell you to fuck off back to Laura._

If the situation hadn't been so serious, he would have laughed. The idea that after ten years of separation and acrimony, not to mention what had happened with Mark O'Reilly, he would even contemplate reuniting with her...

 _I want you, ok? I don't want her, I want_ you _._

Resolving to keep his appointment at Columbia, he called the 2-7 back and left a message for Lennie, advising where he would be and until when then, changing into slacks and a light sweater, he left the apartment and headed out into the sunshine. He took the subway, enjoying the time that passed during the journey where he simply let his mind clear. He thought about nothing and nobody, only jerking himself back to reality when he reached his destination.

"Ben! Good to see you!" Charles greeted him warmly at the main entrance, shaking his hand before turning to the two people standing with him. "This is Karen Wilkes and David Brightman, two of our illustrious brethren. This is Ben Stone." Mutual pleasantries were exchanged before Charles turned for the door. "Shall we start the tour?

Classes had concluded for the summer so the campus was fairly empty and as they walked around and Charles talked like a seasoned tour guide, Ben found himself actually contemplating what a career in academia would actually be like. He pictured himself walking the halls, conversing with students and staff and, when they ventured into one of the lecture halls, he felt as though he could see himself actually imparting knowledge to eager young minds.

_Or indoctrinating them..._

Karen and David also proved to be knowledgeable companions. They answered his, perhaps obvious, questions about the faculty and the day to day life of a professor with no less than absolute charm and enthusiasm, never once making him feel as though he was out of place or would be making the wrong choice. By the time they arrived back to where they had started, he couldn't help but feel as though he belonged.

"Well, what do you think?" Charles asked.

"I think it all sounds great," he replied honestly. "I'm actually looking forward to getting started."

"You mean you weren't before?"

"I'll admit I was a little dubious."

"I was too when I first made the move, but I can honestly say it's the best career choice I ever made. So...my stomach is telling me that it's time for lunch. I booked _Chateaux._ I hope that suits."

Ben opened his mouth to reply that it was certainly an impressive choice, when he caught sight of one of the university administrators hurrying along the corridor towards them.

"Mr Stone? You have a telephone call. It's the 27th Precinct."

He suddenly felt reality hit hard. "Thanks."

"27th Precinct?" Charles laughed. "I thought you gave up that game?"

"I did," he said. "I'm so sorry that I'm going to have to skip lunch. I've just got this one last thing that I need to do."

"Nothing serious I hope?"

He paused. "I guess it depends on how you look at it."

**London**

"We've contacted the local police and they've agreed for us to fax the pictures over for you to look at."

"Now?" Evelyn froze, the phone stuck to her ear as Mike reeled off the address she was to go to.

"Is six-thirty your time ok?" he asked.

"Umm...sure, I...I guess."

"You don't _sound_ sure."

"No, it's...it's fine. I guess I'm just..."

"I get it, don't worry. There will be an officer there with you when you look at the photos, although we won't tell them which ones are the suspects so that their attorney can't use their own lack of presence as grounds for getting any ID tossed." He paused. "It's got to be less nerve wracking than looking at them through the glass. Think how Ben feels."

She felt her heart thud. "Ben? Is...is he there?"

He's on his way over." Mike paused again. "You want me to give him a message or something?"

"Uh...no," she said. "No message. I..." she took a breath. "Six o'clock is fine. I'll be there."

"Great and listen, don't worry. There's no pressure. Just do what you can."

"Ok, thanks."

Slowly, she replaced the receiver and glanced at her watch. Five-thirty. One hour. She turned her gaze back to the pages in front of her, her notes for the presentation the following morning, and watched helplessly as the words started to blur and run together.

_Get a grip, get a grip, get a grip...Ben's there. He's actually there...looking at them. All you have to do is look at some fucking photographs. Come on!_

Letting out a long breath, she lifted the pages, tapped them together and then slid them carefully into her bag before getting to her feet and making her way out of the office and along to the elevator. Most of her colleagues had already left for the evening but she had overheard Alex earlier saying that he would be working late. She could go to his office and have a chat. Maybe he could help her relax a bit.

_Or you could stop being such a fucking whore and just go to the Goddamn police station._

"Or I could have a drink," she whispered to herself as the elevator doors open. "One drink, that's all."

**New York**

"We're just getting set up," Lennie leaned in the door of the interrogation room. "Everything ok? You want another cup of coffee?"

Ben pushed the empty cup away from him across the table and shook his head. "No thanks. I kind of just want to get this over with."

"Bit different being on this side of things, huh?"

"You could say that."

Lennie came fully into the room and closed the door. "Mike talked to Evelyn. She's heading to a local station and we'll send a bunch of mugshots through for her to look at."

"Ok," he nodded, relieved at least that she was some distance away. For her sake if nothing else.

"They've both got the same attorney, if that means anything to you."

"Anyone we know?"

"George Zuckart?"

Ben smiled and shook his head, "Now there's a surprise."

"I don't follow."

"Well, when one crime family falls apart I guess the first thing you do is look around for another one to cling onto. George Zuckart represented Frank Masucci."

"Oh yeah, I remember reading about that case. You were trying to convict Masucci for murdering that missing union president...what was his name...uh..."

"Russell Mackie."

"That's right." Lennie paused. "The way I remember it, that one didn't go so well."

"No, it didn't."

"I'd better get back. I'll come and get you when we're ready to go."

Ben nodded as he disappeared back out of the room, the door closing softly behind him. Frank Masucci. It seemed like another lifetime. He could still remember the feeling of mild paninc when Zuckart had brought out evidence that Ben's star witness, Joe Pilefsky, had committed perjury in his testimony and the case against Masucci had collapsed. He could also remember Masucci's smug face as he had been interviewed after the mistrial, confident that he had managed to evade justice, only to be gunned down a few weeks later.

Mobsters. They were all the same.

He tried not to think about it too much as he followed Lennie into the viewing room. Zuckart seemed surprised to see him, but said nothing as six men filed slowly into the room on the other side of the glass. He looked at their faces, as he was instructed to do so, and wasn't sure if he felt relief or disappointment that none of them were familiar. They all filed out again and a second group of six took their place. He could have sworn he felt a collective intake of breath from all those in the room as he scanned the faces.

Number one...number two...number three..number four...

He paused.

Number four.

In his long career, in the days when attending police precincts was part of his everyday job, he had seen witnesses react in numerous different ways when they saw someone they recognised. Some were stoic, others cried. A woman had fainted once and a man had vomited. He'd always wondered how he would react.

Now he knew.

He felt his heart start to beat faster, his palms grow slightly sweaty and, in his head, he could hear Evelyn screaming and the gun going off.

"Number four," he heard himself say.

Mike opened the door. "Number four step forwards." The man did as bidden. "Take your time."

"It's number four," he repeated, his mouth going dry. "He was the shooter."

"Ok," he felt Lennie's hand on his shoulder, gently propelling him back out of the room and into the interrogation room again where he sat down heavily in the chair he'd only recently vacated feeling...well he wasn't quite sure. "You alright?"

"Yep."

"You want some more coffee?"

"No. Who is he?"

"Antonio Lucci. You did good."

"I couldn't pick out the other guy."

"Well he hit you from behind. I'd have been amazed frankly if you _had_ identified him." Lennie paused. "You sure you're ok? You want me to give you a ride home?"

"Do you mind if I wait?" he asked. "I'd...like to know if Evelyn identifies either of them."

"Sure," Lennie said, smiling understandingly. "No problem."

**London**

"So, I'd like you to take your time and look at these twelve photographs. If you recognise anyone, just point them out to me, ok?"

Evelyn nodded, watching as the officer carefully spread the images out on the table in front of her. He was nice, fairly young, polite...didn't seem put out at all at being asked to assist another country with one of their investigations. Sgt Steele, he had said his name was.

He had nice green eyes.

_Focus you stupid bitch._

She looked at the photographs, scanning the faces. The quality was surprisingly good for having been sent by fax, the images so clear. Twelve faces staring out at her. It was odd. They obviously weren't real...weren't there...and yet she felt as nervous as if they were watching her thrugh the glass.

_Ben...Ben had to face them. Ben had to see them._

"Are you alright?" Sgt Steele asked.

"Yes," she replied, realising that she was trembling slightly, but unsure if it was from anxiety or the two glasses of wine she had managed to consume before arriving, slightly late at the station. "I'm fine."

"Well, like I said, just take your time."

She looked.

She looked again.

No.

No-one.

Nothing.

"I...I don't recognise anyone," she said. "I mean I..." she looked again. "I just don't..."

_Why don't you? Why don't you recognise him? You saw him. You looked in his eyes. He was right in front of you. He fucking shot you...how can you not see him?_

"There's no rush."

"No..." her eyes danced over the faces again. "I don't...I don't see anyone...they're not there. Neither of them are there."

Sgt Steele paused. "Are you sure? Would you like some more time?"

"They're not there," she repeated. "Honestly, they're not there. I'm not lying..."

"I'm not suggesting you are. But I appreciate that it was a very traumatic incident..."

"They are _not_ there!" she got to her feet. "I'm sorry."

"Ok," he stood up with her. "That's fine. You at least tried. That's more than some people do. Would you like a tea or a coffee? I'll phone through and let them know the outcome and then I'll take a brief supplementary statement from you, is that ok?"

"Yes..." she said, sitting down again slowly. "Would...would you mind...when you call through to tell them..." she hesitated, "would you mind asking if the other witness identified either of them? I mean, he was there with them so maybe...maybe..."

"Of course," he said with an understanding smile. "I'll phone through now."

**New York**

"Evelyn didn't pick either of them."

He felt a sense of relief flood through him even though he knew, potentially, what it still meant. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

**London**

"I checked for you. The other witness positively identified one of the men, the one that the police over there believe carried out the actual shooting, but not his accomplice."

Her heart started to beat faster, knowing all too well what that meant. "Thank you...thank you for finding out."


	11. Chapter 11

**London**

The shower felt good.

The sensation of the water drumming against her head almost, but not quite, blurred out the actual pounding in her skull, the beat that, once again, told her that she had drank too much. She had thought that not recognising anyone would have been a blessing. That she would have felt alright about it. But in her head, she had seen him in front of her, a face, blurred beyond recognition, could feel her heart thudding in her chest, could hear her own voice screaming...and then the sound of the gunshot, almost like a firecracker.

She thought she had tucked it away, compartmentalised it, as she struggled to rid her mind of Edward and Lily and little Jack. Maybe she had, to a point, but now it was back. The memory...the pain.

The alcohol had done nothing to alleviate it. All it had done was dull her other senses and lead her, once again, to make arguably unwise choices.

She heard the bathroom door opening. "You ok in there?"

"Fine," she forced herself to reply.

"You want a towel?"

Gingerly, she slid to the other edge of the bathtub and peered around the shower curtain. He was standing in front of the mirror in his briefs, wiping away the steam and reaching for the shaving foam. He shook the bottle then squirted some out into his hand and started lathering his face.

_Brian...I think._

"There's a towel there you can use," he gestured to the hook by the side of the shower. "I can give you a lift into the city if you want. I've got the car today."

"No...no that's ok," she replied, sliding back behind the curtain and turning off the water. "I'll need to go back to my place before I go to work anyway." She paused. "What time is it?"

"Just after half seven."

_Shit._

She waited, suddenly feeling anxious about sliding back the curtain and stepping out of the bathtub, even if there was a convenient towel nearby, and then reminding herself how ridiculous that anxiety was given she had spent the night with him. She reached around the curtain and unhooked the towel, pulling it around herself before moving the curtain back and stepping out. "Thanks for letting me use the shower."

"You're welcome," he said. "Any time."

She moved past him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom where she hurriedly dried her body and then used the towel to take the dampness out of her hair, before reaching for her clothes. By the time she was dressed, he had finished shaving and she started slightly when she saw him standing in the doorway. "Sorry, I didn't mean to hold you back."

"You haven't held me back," he reassured her. "My shift doesn't start until ten anyway so I've got plenty time." He moved past her over to the wardrobe. "You sure you don't want a lift? It's honestly no trouble."

"No, thank you. I need to go home and get changed. If you can just point me in the direction o the nearest tube station I'll be fine."

"Ok," he turned and smiled at her as he buttoned up his shirt. "There's one just around the corner. Should take about twenty minutes to get into the city."

"Thanks."

"Are you going now?" he stopped her as she turned for the door. "Don't you want some breakfast first? I do a mean poached egg."

Her stomach lurched slightly at the mention of food and she shook her head, "Thanks, but I'd better get going." She paused, suddenly feeling awkward. "Umm...thanks for last night, I guess."

"Thank _you._ It's been a while for me if you must know. The job gets in the way of any kind of decent social life and unless a woman's in the same line of work, they often don't understand about the shifts. They think once you're in CID it should be 9-5."

"I can imagine."

He paused and took a step towards her. "Are you sure you're going to be alright? I mean, I know you didn't pick anyone out of the pictures but you _were_ pretty shaken up."

"I'll be fine, honestly. I really should go..."

"What about your number? I'd really like to see you again."

"I don't think that's a good idea," she said, turning away again. "But thank you all the same."

"Evelyn..."

She didn't stop to hear what else he might have to say. Making her way down the hall she lifted her bag from where she had carelessly dropped it the previous night and then opened the front door, the bright morning sunshine hitting her in the face.

The O'Connell meeting was at twelve.

She couldn't let anyone down.

 _Only myself,_ she thought as she hurried down the street in the direction he had described. _That's allowed._

**New York**

"I'm pretty sure I know why you're here and it isn't to watch me demolish a witness on the stand."

Ben paused, slightly caught off guard. When he had called Jack's office that morning, hoping to speak with him, his secretary had told him that he had already left for court. Another man might have waited until a more conducive time, but having brooded over the issue all of the previous evening, he knew it couldn't wait. Besides, there were only so many places in the courthouse Jack could be and he had lucked out on the second attempt by finding him in the mens' room, still limping on one crutch.

"Ok, why am I here?"

"Why don't you tell me and then I'll tell you if I was correct."

Ben followed him back out into the court rotunda, busy as it was with people going about their daily business. "I don't want Evelyn to testify."

"I thought as much."

"You don't need her. She can't identify either of the suspects..."

"You're jumping the gun a bit, aren't you?" Jack interrupted him. "They're only being arraigned this afternoon. We haven't even been to the Grand Jury yet."

"I don't want her to testify before the Grand Jury either."

"Ben..."

"I mean it Jack. She's been through enough and if she can't identify them then what would be the point?"

"You're seriously asking me that? Come on, you've been a prosecutor longer than I have. You know damn well that just because she didn't make an identification doesn't mean that she doesn't have value as a witness. She was the main victim for God's sake. Not to mention the fact that the only way a motive makes sense here is if someone in the Lucchese family ordered the hit to take place to get to Edward Burns. Now, if Evelyn _doesn't_ testify, how do we even begin to establish that?"

"Well then you need to get Scarpetta to roll. Offer him a plea to assault in exchange for his testimony against Lucci for the attempted murder charge."

"How does that help us? Even if he's prepared to do that, it doesn't take us any closer to nailing Robert O'Reilly, who's clearly in this up to his neck, or anyone in the family."

"Motive isn't part of the prima facie case."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise you'd started lecturing already," Jack turned towards the courtroom.

"Look..." Ben stepped in front of him. "I want the bastard who shot Evelyn, I do. Frankly, I don't care about who ordered it or why. I just want the man who pulled the trigger."

"Good thing this isn't your case then."

"Please...Jack, these people are dangerous. You know that as well as I do."

Jack paused, "This is because of Ann Madsen isn't it?"

"No..."

"You're afraid what happened to her might happen to Evelyn."

"I needed Ann Madsen," Ben insisted. "Without her, I didn't have a case against Steve Green. You don't need Evelyn to make a case against Antonio Lucci!"

"And would you be saying this if it wasn't Evelyn we were talking about?"

"Jack..."

"Ben, like I said, they haven't even been arraigned yet. Why don't you let me consider the evidence and then make a decision as to how best to proceed, ok?"

"But..."

"I'm late for court. I really have to go."

XXXX

 _I need to protect you. I can't let you go through this. I can't. I don't care what you think about me or even what you think I think about you._ _I_ _need to know that you're safe and that they can't get to you. I need to make up for all the times before that I let you down. Even now...even with you leaving me, I can't help but think that, somehow, you left because I had let you down...because I wasn't able to give you what you thought you needed._

_Lord, does any of this even make sense? Sometimes I think I'm just writing gibberish that you're never going to read anyway, so what's the point?_

"Ben?"

He started, suddenly remembering where he was, and looked up to see Elizabeth standing in front of him, coffee cup in hand. He closed the journal and placed it on the floor under his chair. She would probably think he was crazy if she knew how he spent his free time these days. "Hello."

"Are you here by yourself?"

"As you see."

"Mind if I join you?"

"No, of course not," he waved to the empty chair, finding himself almost glad at the prospect of company. She slid into the seat opposite, put her cup down on the table and unwound the silk scarf she was wearing from around her neck. Once again, he couldn't help but wonder about her and Logan and how mismatched they seemed. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you," she replied. "How are you?"

"Fine," he replied. "I talked to Lennie Briscoe a few weeks ago and he said that you and Mike were spending the weekend in Connecticut."

She looked slightly surprised but merely nodded her head, "Yes, we were visiting my parents."

"That must have been nice."

"It was." She paused. "I saw you over at the courthouse earlier, talking to Jack. I thought you might come here."

It was his turn to look surprised. It was a fairly innocuous coffee shop, frequented as often by lawyers and other court staff as it often wasn't. It seemed an odd assumption for her to make given how many establishments there were in the local area. Unless it hadn't been an assumption at all. "So you followed me?"

"Maybe."

"Why?"

She sipped her coffee. "So I could see for myself how you really are."

"And how am I?" he played along.

"Do you want an honest opinion?"

He laughed and looked down into his cup, "I'm not sure, do I?" She didn't say anything which, of course, spoke volumes. "Were you over at the courthouse for a case?" Bringing the conversation onto more familiar territory seemed the best choice.

"Yes, I'm due to testify in a murder Frank Lake's prosecuting but they don't need me now until tomorrow. Which is a bit of a headache actually as I had to rearrange all of today's patients and now I'll have to do the same with tomorrow's but...at least I have a free afternoon." She regarded him carefully over her cup. "Mike told me that you've accepted a teaching post at Columbia." He nodded. "Sounds like a good move for you."

"You mean you share my mother's opinion that I'd make a terrible defence attorney?"

"I don't know that I'd go _that_ far," she laughed. "But it certainly would be odd to see you sat at opposing counsel's table."

"I'm looking forward to it actually," he said. "Columbia, that is."

"I'm sure you'll enjoy the new challenge."

A silence descended over the table, one he would describe as neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, and he could tell that she was building up to ask him the question so, he decided to pre-empt her. "Yes, I have spoken to her." Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "Last week in fact, though it...wasn't much of a conversation. The police have arrested the men they believe attacked us outside her building. They're being arraigned later today." He glanced out the window over towards the courthouse, feeling almost a pang for his previous life. "She couldn't identify either of them so, when you saw me, I was asking Jack if he would consider agreeing that she not testify."

"And what did he say?"

"That he hadn't made a final decision yet, but I could tell that he thinks he needs her to make his case."

"What do _you_ think?"

He met her gaze. "I think that I don't want her anywhere near any of this."

Elizabeth nodded slowly. "Are you afraid that she wouldn't be able to handle it?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "I don't know if she would be able to handle it or not, but I don't want her to have to. You know how much hell she went through testifying against Edward and I..." he sighed. "I just...I want to protect her. I wasn't able to do it before and I want to be able to do it now, as silly as that might sound."

"It doesn't sound silly, but what do you mean about not being able to protect her before?"

"At the Algonquin and on the street that night." He looked down at the tabletop. "I failed her twice, Liz, and I don't want to fail her again. That's why I don't want her to have to come back here and face it...face them."

"You know," she said after a long silence, "I was going to reach out to you a few weeks ago when I heard you'd left the DA's office."

"What for?"

"To offer my help."

"What, like some sort of exit counselling?" he smirked. "It's not a cult. I don't need to be de-programmed."

"I meant more in relation to the reason why you felt you had to leave." She paused, almost as though waiting for him to say it, and when he didn't she said it for him. "Ann Madsen."

"Ann Madsen..." he shook his head. "That name is going to haunt me for the rest of my life, isn't it?"

"You can be flippant about it if you want..."

"I'm _not_ being flippant, and I care a lot about what happened to her, but I didn't resign solely because of Ann Madsen."

"Yes you did, and you know you did. I know you, Ben and although you believe that what you did in that case was right, deep down...you also believe that you failed her. Just like you seem to believe you failed Evelyn."

"That's not..." he shook his head, fighting against her reasoning. "They're two entirely different things."

"No," she insisted, "they're not. Would you have resigned if Ann Madsen _hadn't_ been killed? If you knew she was safe and healthy and living a new life in, I don't know, Indiana...would you still have made the choice that you did?" He didn't say anything. "You are not responsible for what happened to Ann Madsen any more than you are responsible for what happened to Evelyn, then or now."

He glanced quickly at her, "What do you mean...now?"

"You said it wasn't much of a conversation when you spoke to her."

"It wasn't."

"And you were already concerned about her reasons for deciding to go to London, as was I. Call me crazy, or maybe just intuitive, but it sounds to me as though you're still worried about her, beyond the possibility of her needing to testify."

He paused, weighing up how much to divulge to her. After all, Evelyn's behaviour might mean nothing. It wasn't a crime to get drunk and be rude on the telephone, at least not yet. And yet, it anyone had had any insight into Evelyn's psyche then it was Elizabeth. "Pamela called her a couple of weeks ago. I didn't know she was doing it, she did it behind my back." He sighed. "Evelyn was very drunk, she was babbling, crying...she frightened her."

"And did you talk to her about it?"

"I tried to, but it just ended in an argument. She got some crazy idea in her head that I was going to get back together with Laura and I said..." he trailed off, not proud of the insinuation that he had made about her. Elizabeth watched him, waiting for him to continue. "I implied that when I had spoken to her cousin previously and she had told me that Evelyn was spending her spare time 'letting off steam' that...well...I'm sure you get the picture."

To his surprise, Elizabeth didn't seem shocked by what he was saying, but her expression tightened slightly. "You suggested that you thought she was engaging in risky sexual behaviour?"

"Well, if that's psychobabble for having sex with other men then, yes I suppose I did. I didn't mean to say it. It just came out as a reaction to what she said about Laura."

Elizabeth leaned forwards in her chair, "But do you think it's true?"

He shrugged, "I don't know."

"Ben..."

"Liz...I don't know, ok? Do I want it to be true? Of course not. Thinking about her being with anyone else just makes me feel..." he fought for an appropriate word to encapsulate his feelings and failed. "But she was the one who left _me_ so I suppose it's not out with the bounds of possibility that..."

"You said she was very drunk?"

"That's what Pamela said and she admitted as much to me when I talked to her myself, not to mention the fact she was drunk during our conversation."

"Is this a regular occurrence?"

Ben frowned, "I don't know, why?" Elizabeth paused. "Liz..." he felt a prickle down his spine. "You're starting to scare me here."

"Self-destructive behaviours...alcohol misuse, sexual promiscuity...they can all be symptoms of post traumatic stress disorder."

"Post traumatic stress disorder?" he shook his head. "I thought that was something that affected war veterans. They suffer flashbacks because of the things they've seen..."

"It can and does affect military personnel but we're seeing it becoming increasingly common in people who have experienced extreme trauma in their life, regardless of the form the trauma takes. So, domestic violence, sexual assault, street crime...and it doesn't always manifest itself by way of flashbacks. There are a lot of behaviours that can contribute to a diagnosis."

"What are you saying?" he leaned forwards. "Are you telling me Evelyn has post traumatic stress disorder?"

"She stopped attending sessions before I could make an affirmative diagnosis. There's no doubt that she experienced extreme trauma, not just from Edward, but as a result of the shooting too." She paused. "You must have seen changes in her behaviour."

"Shambala Green said that she thought Evelyn was drinking..."

"I meant before that. When you were still together."

"Well she didn't drink any more than anyone else and the only person she was having sex with was me."

"Did she talk much to you about how she was feeling regarding Edward and everything that had happened?"

He paused, remembering the conversation when she had said she felt she couldn't get past knowing about Edward's betrayal and how he had told her that she needed to put it behind her and move on.

He suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

_Oh no...what have I done?_

"I knew...I knew that she needed help but I thought...I thought she was getting that by seeing you. I thought..." He met her gaze again. "This is my fault. I pushed her too much towards us making a permanent future together. The kids coming to stay...us getting married..."

"Ben, that's not what I'm saying," Elizabeth said, reaching out and putting her hand on his arm. "If you want the absolute truth, the seeds of the PTSD were sown long before she ever met you. Falling in love with you probably only delayed the inevitable."

_Oh Evelyn...I should have done something. Shambala was right. I should never have let you leave. I should have stopped you..._

"So what do I do?" he asked helplessly.

Elizabeth sat back and drummed her fingers on the table. "Can you get in touch with her again?"

"After our last conversation I tried to call her back and she refused to answer. I could try her cousin again, but when I talked to her last week she told me that everything was fine."

"She probably doesn't realise there's a problem or, if she does, she's minimising it thinking that it'll help Evelyn not to make too big a deal of it. If Evelyn _is_ drinking to excess and meeting men for sex then she needs support to understand that neither of those choices are going to help in the long run and ultimately prove that she should still be in therapy."

"And what if she doesn't get that support?"

"In the short term she obviously runs the risk of alcohol related health problems, sexually transmitted infections if any intercourse isn't protected, not to mention that a combination of both behaviours leaves her vulnerable to potential abuse."

"And in the long term?" he asked fearfully, as if what she had already said wasn't bad enough.

"Untreated..." Elizabeth shook her head. "Worst case scenario? A complete mental breakdown."


	12. Chapter 12

**London**

"You're late," Lynnette said helpfully as she hurried through the front door of the building into the foyer. "Mrs Cooper's been asking for you."

_Shit._

Evelyn glanced at her watch and saw that it was almost nine-thirty. By the time she had navigated the underground system from Brian's house back to her flat, changed and then made her way to the office it had been too late to do anything about the fact that nine o'clock was going to come and go without her being at work. She chose not to engage with Lynnette, who was clearly poised and ready to get involved in some office scandal, and instead punched the button for the elevator.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," she snapped in response, stepping inside the car when it arrived and selecting the fourth floor. As the elevator silently rose, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There was still plenty time before the meeting. And she was prepared. She was absolutely prepared. Not to mention she was fine. Completely fine.

Alex was standing in the hallway as she made her way along to her office. "Sarah's been looking for you," he said as she approached, his expression neither accusatory nor sympathetic. "She didn't look too happy."

_Fuck._

"I can't imagine why." She replied as breezily as she could, dumping her bag onto her desk. "There's two hours before the O'Connell meeting."

"Well she said she wanted to see you when you got in."

"I didn't realise you were her errand boy," she snapped before she could stop herself.

"I'm not," he replied, clearly surprised. "She asked me to tell you if I saw you...so I am."

"An errand boy then."

"Evelyn..."

"Fine. I guess there's no time like the present." Turning on her heel before he could answer, she left her own office and made her way along the hall to Sarah's large corner office where she didn't bother to knock but simply pushed the door open and marched inside. "You wanted to see me?"

Sarah looked up, momentarily surprised by the sudden intrusion, then her face tightened again. "You're late."

"Only by half an hour."

"You're still late, Evelyn."

Evelyn bit the inside of her mouth, willing herself to remain composed, though her heart was already starting to beat faster. "I work late numerous nights during the week so..."

"That's not the point. Your contracted working hours are nine am until five pm. If you want to work past five that's up to you but I still expect you to be here by nine."

"Is that what you wanted to see me about? My timekeeping?"

Sarah leaned forward in her chair and laced her fingers together. "I called you last night but there was no answer."

Evelyn paused, "I wanted an early night. I was in bed by eight. I didn't hear the phone."

"You didn't hear me banging on your door either? When I didn't get a reply on the phone I came round."

She felt her fingers start to twitch involuntarily. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I was concerned about you and because I wanted to know if you were just avoiding picking up the phone in case it was Ben or if you weren't actually home." Sarah paused. "I suspect the latter."

She could feel the irritation growing inside her, her hands opening and closing at her sides. "I told you before that what I do with my private life..."

"So where were you?"

"That's none of your business."

"Evelyn..." Sarah got to her feet and came around her desk. "I'm worried about you, ok? Ever since the festival I've been constantly thinking about what you're doing and who you're with."

"You're not my mother."

"No, but I'm the only family you've got over here and given that I'm also your visa sponsor, I feel a certain responsibility and concern for your wellbeing."

"Not to mention your business," Evelyn said acerbically.

"That's not..."

"Oh don't try and pretend that that isn't your first concern, Sarah!" She snapped. "You couldn't give a rats ass about what I do on my own time so long as it doesn't impact upon your precious company! I don't know why you're so worried! I'm here and I'm prepared for the O'Connell meeting."

"Have you had a drink this morning?"

Evelyn stared at her, her throat suddenly going dry, "You think I'm an alcoholic?"

"I didn't say that, but I think that if you drink so much that you can't remember what you do or who you do it with, then that's a problem." Sarah paused. "I'm asking you as someone who loves and cares about you. Where were you last night?"

"Last night..." Evelyn shook her head. "Ok, you want to know what I was doing last night? Yesterday afternoon I got a call to say that the police back home had arrested two suspects in my shooting. They had them in custody and they wanted me to go to a local police station here and look at mugshots. So...I went."

"And?"

"And...I couldn't identify anyone," she continued, the photographs flashing through her mind. "And I was upset about it and the very nice policeman who was showing me the photos was concerned about me and he asked if I wanted to go for a drink." Sarah's eyes widened. "So I went for a drink with him and..."

"Oh Jesus..."

"And we ended up back at his place and we had sex, _safe sex_ , and I stayed the night. So no, I wasn't in when you came around last night."

"Oh my God..." Sarah ran her hand through her hair. "Do you not even realise how fucked up that is? You go to a police station as a _witness_ , a _vulnerable witness,_ and you end up sleeping with the fucking _police officer_?"

She shuffled her feet, suddenly feeling uncomfortable standing still, and found herself glancing towards the door. "I'm not a _vulnerable witness_ Sarah, for Christ's sake!"

"You are! How can you not see that? Evelyn..." Sarah moved towards her. "You're drinking and...and hooking up with men that you don't even know and..."

"Not this again...you gave me this speech after the festival, remember?"

"Yes I did and it doesn't seem to have made a blind bit of difference to you! You had to go to a GUM clinic for heaven's sake! You couldn't even remember if you'd _had_ sex!"

"So?"

"So...I thought that might have given you a wakeup call...made you realise what you're doing. But when I saw how you were drinking on Sunday..."

"When you just _had_ to drop the O'Connell meeting into the conversation? What was that, some sort of test?"

"They are one of my oldest and biggest clients. This is my business, Evelyn. I took a chance on you by giving you this job..."

"And I've done ok at it! I've never been drunk in the office or dealing with clients..."

"Wow, what an achievement!"

"You have no idea, ok?" She felt the tears starting, her chest growing tight with the effort of trying to push down her emotions. "You have no idea what my life is like! You have no idea what it's like to wake up every morning and wonder what _shit_ you're going to be thinking about that day! You have no idea what it's like to wonder if it's going to be Eddie or Ben or the shooting or the baby that's going to be the thing that _fucks you over_ that day! You have no idea!" She broke off, taking a gulp of air and trying to steady herself.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck..._

"You coming here...to London...to work for me...that was supposed to be a fresh start for you," Sarah said. "A chance to get away from all the demons..."

"Well guess what, they followed me here! And leaving Ben just created a whole load of fucking new ones too!" She could feel what little control she had starting to slip away. "And I have _no-one_ to talk to about it. So, yeah, I get drunk and I get fucked because those two things are the only things that make me feel something other than what I have to feel every fucking day! And I don't expect you to understand that with your fucking perfect life! Your perfect fucking husband and your perfect fucking kids and your perfect fucking business that's all yours! I bet it made you feel so _fucking_ superior to offer me this job, didn't it? 'Poor abused, troubled little Evelyn. I didn't do anything for her before so I'll do it now just to make myself feel better!'"

_Boom._

"Evelyn..."

"Well you know what? _Fuck_ you and _fuck_ your clients and _fuck_ your job!" She spun on her heel and threw the door open, running down the hallway back to her own office, ignoring the other people standing watching her. Lifting her bag, she turned back to the door only to find that Sarah had followed her and was blocking her exit.

_Run._

"Get out of my way."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving!"

"Evelyn..." Sarah moved towards her, her hands outstretched in appeasement, "this is crazy, ok? You need to calm down..."

"Oh do I?" Evelyn snarled. "You don't get to tell me what to do, Sarah. I quit, ok? I quit!"

"You are massively overreacting here...let's just sit down and talk about this, ok? I'm sorry if what I said upset you..."

"Get out of my way!"

"No! For once in your Goddamn life you need to listen to me..."

"Move!" Evelyn barged into her, trying to push her out of the way, but Sarah pushed back and she was surprisingly strong. "I said, _move!"_

"Evelyn, stop it!" Sarah grabbed her arms. "Please, calm down!"

"Get off me!" She lashed out hard, catching Sarah across the face, causing her cousin to stumble back, her hands going to her face, blood almost instantly starting to seep through her fingers.

_Oh Jesus...oh God...what are you doing...?_

"I..." She stared helplessly as Sarah moved her hands away and she saw the damage done to her nose. "I'm sorry..." Sarah stared at her. "I'm sorry..."

_You stupid bitch...Edward...the Algonquin...you're no better than he was._

_What is wrong with me?_

_Run._

She heard a gasp and turned to see a group of people crowded around the office door, watching agog at the scene in front of them. For a moment, no-one spoke and all she could hear was the sound of her own laboured breathing, then Alex pushed his way through into the room, his jaw dropping in shock. "What the hell...?" He swung his gaze to her. "What have you done?"

It was like being under a microscope. Everyone was looking at her. Everyone thought she was crazy.

 _They're right...I_ am _crazy...I'm losing my mind..._

"I'm sorry," she said again then rushed for the door, pushing past the onlookers to get out. She didn't bother waiting for the elevator, but threw open the fire door instead and ran down the stairs as fast she could, her feet occasionally catching and threatening to drag her to the ground. But she kept running down into the foyer, past a stunned looking Lynnette, and outside.

_Run...run...you have to run._

_You have to run far away._

_You're fucking insane._

_What have you done?_

**New York**

"No...uh...I'm sorry but Ms Nicholls isn't available right now."

"Well Mrs Cooper then," Ben sighed impatiently.

"I'm sorry she's...she's out of the office at the moment. Can I take a message?"

"Do you know when she'll be back? Do you know when Ms Nicholls will be available?"

"Uh...no, sorry."

"Fine," he said, trying to keep his temper. "Can you ask both of them to call me please? It's very important."

"Yes, of course. Thank you for calling. Goodbye."

The line went dead and Ben found himself staring at the receiver wondering what kind of people Sarah employed on her front desk. The girl had sounded as though she had just happened to wander into the building and pick up the phone. He replaced the receiver and sat back in the couch, contemplating what to do next. After her revelatory diagnosis, Elizabeth had excused herself from the coffee shop leaving him alone to sit and ponder on what she had said. PTSD. It made sense. How had he not seen it?

_Because you're not a fucking psychiatrist._

He glanced at his watch. Eleven-thirty. Four-thirty in London. She wasn't going to call him back now, not so close to the end of the working day. Resolving to give it an hour and then start trying her at home, he tried to keep himself occupied by doing some housework. He vacuumed the carpets, dusted the furniture, wiped down the counters in the kitchen and then, with no little trepidation, opened the door to Pamela's room.

To his surprise it was fairly tidy and he was pleased to see a half-completed sketch on the pad on her dresser. Ignoring the bundle of clothes lying on the floor, he lifted a dirty plate and cup from the bedside table and carried them back through to the kitchen before turning to Peter's room where, much to his chagrin, he couldn't see the floor.

"Peter..." he sighed, kicking some of the clothes out of the way as he traversed over to the window to let in some fresh air. The agreement had been that, for the most part, he would leave the kids' rooms alone so long as they kept them moderately clean and tidy. But he had to admit to having grown lax in his monitoring of the situation something that, in Peter's case at least, would need to change. As he turned back towards the door, he inadvertently tripped and bumped against the chair sat at his desk, dislodging a hooded sweatshirt that had been hanging there and knocking it to the floor. With a sigh, he bent and picked it up, a small box falling from one of the pockets as he did so.

For the briefest of seconds, he thought it was a pack of cigarettes but, as he bent to retrieve it, saw that it was, in fact, an unopened box of condoms.

"Ah..." he heard himself say as he turned the package over in his hand and realised that it was not a brand he was familiar with. He racked his brains, trying to remember if Peter had said anything about any girls at school, and finding himself wanting. The only girl he could recall his son saying _anything_ about was Claire...and he would bet his last dollar that there was nothing going on _there._

_Now what? Do I just put them back and forget I saw them? Or do I say something to him after school?_

_Shit._

As he was contemplating the best form of action, he suddenly heard the phone ring in the living room and, leaping over the mess, he rushed over to answer it. "Hello?"

"Hi, it's me."

He paused, "Laura?"

"We've known each other a long time Ben. I didn't think you'd forgotten what my voice sounded like."

"No, of course not...I just..." he glanced down at the packet of condoms still in his hand. "No, I thought you might be someone else, that's all."

"Sorry to disappoint you."

"No, I'm sorry. Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine. How are you?"

"Oh...great," he lied.

"Good. Listen, I know this coming weekend isn't my time with the kids but I've been in touch with a couple of my old college friends these last few weeks and we've arranged to meet up in the city and go to see a show on Saturday night. I'm going to be staying over so I thought maybe the four of us could all do something together on Sunday before I go home. What do you think?"

"Oh..." he said, caught off guard. "Well...umm..."

"Do the kids have plans?"

"Not that I know of..."

"Great! Well ok, why don't you sound them out and I'll call back Friday night to talk to them and make arrangements?"

"Sure," he heard himself agree. "Why not?"

"Excellent! It'll be nice for us all to spend some time together in the city again, don't you think?"

"Yes," he sighed. "It'll be nice."

**London**

"How much longer?"

"I'm afraid I can't give you a definite timescale. These things take time, unfortunately. It can take up to a year sometimes even for the simplest estate to be settled."

"A year?!" Evelyn wiped her face on her sleeve. "I can't wait a year!"

"Well I can see what I can do to hurry things along but..."

"I need the money now!"

Robert paused. "Has something happened? I understood that your new job in London would..."

"Yeah, I don't have that job anymore so I need the fucking money!"

"I might be able to see if I can get you some sort of advance but as things stand at the moment..."

"Thanks a lot! Don't fucking bother!" She slammed the receiver back into the cradle, pushed open the door of the phone box and stepped back out into the street. She wasn't entirely sure where she was, but it seemed to be some sort of square surrounded by bars, cafe, restaurants and shops. The evening was warm and sunny and there were people sitting at tables laughing, chatting and drinking.

Drinking.

She realised that she was still trembling, despite the half bottle of wine she had consumed earlier in the hope that it might calm her...dull her senses. If anything, it had had the opposite effect. She felt wired, hyper, the slightest thing liable to cause her to jump. Having fled the office, she knew that she couldn't go back to the flat, at least not straight away. It was the first place they would look for her. Sarah, Alex...the police...

_What have you done?_

She started walking aimlessly, glancing at the other people nearby...particularly the men.

_Maybe...maybe I could pick someone up and convince them to take me home with them. Maybe I could just do that forever. Move from man to man. Then nobody need ever know where I am._

"Don't be so fucking stupid!" she said aloud, causing a group of girls to look at her and then start laughing. They couldn't have been more than eighteen. Young, pretty, their whole lives ahead of them. "Don't waste it," she said, causing them to laugh harder. "Don't fucking waste it."

_Ben...I could call Ben._

_You can't call Ben. How would you explain any of this?_

Across the square, a church bell started to chime and, glancing at her watch, she saw that it was six o'clock.

_Mass._

_You're not even Catholic._

_You can't go to Mass._

_You wouldn't be welcome._

She turned in the direction of the church door. "Where else am I supposed to go?"


	13. Chapter 13

Religion had never really been a comfort to her. As a child, her parents had forced her to attend their local church and sit in the Sunday school class colouring in pictures of Jesus, singing songs and listening to Bible stories. When she became a teenager she had rebelled against it, citing the fact that she could better spend the time finishing her homework. Her mother hadn't been pleased but her father had usually acquiesced and once she hit college, she stopped going at all. When Edward had proposed to her, however, he had made it clear that they were to be married in church and, in order to facilitate that, they should show some commitment to attending. So she had gone Sunday after Sunday for as long as he could be bothered with it and on the day of their wedding she supposed that at least she wasn't a huge hypocrite, just a small one. Of course, post-marriage, she and Edward are rarely set foot in a church except for the usual christenings, weddings and funerals that came from being in your thirties and having some friends. After she had walked away from her marriage, she had contemplated going back to the church, thinking it might offer her some solace. But there had always been an excuse. Something better to do.

But now...

It was a pretty church inside, as far as churches went. There were high ceilings, a few stained glass windows and the carpet running down the aisle was a rich red in colour. The pews were hard and old fashioned, but they at least looked as though someone had taken the time to polish them and there were flowers on the altar. It seemed an awful lot of effort for a Wednesday evening.

_But this is Catholicism. They take these things seriously._

She had never been to a regular Mass before and had no idea of the form, so she slid into a pew near the back and watched as more people, not many but enough to be significant, joined her for worship.

_What are you hoping to gain?_

Certainly not an understanding of the Catholic faith, given there were so many things about it that she fundamentally disagreed with. Perhaps the priest, not recognising her, might think she was a potential convert. The thought tickled her somehow and, as the service progressed, she felt her shoulders shake with inappropriate, uncontrollable laughter.

_What is wrong with you?_

_You're in church._

_You're losing your fucking mind._

Thirty minutes later, it was over and she slid out of the pew and joined the other congregants in heading towards the door where, beyond, she could see the blue sky and feel the warmth of a June evening. July was forecast to be even warmer than June. She had seen men walk around with no tops on in weather that she, as a New Yorker, would have considered slightly on the cool side. But, well, each to their own.

The square was still busy and as she looked at a couple sat enjoying a pizza and beer at one of the restaurants, she couldn't help but wonder if it was hot in New York. She couldn't help but fantasise about being back there, strolling hand in hand with Ben to the park, talking, laughing...

_Ben..._

_Drink._

She stopped at the store around the corner from her flat and bought four bottles of wine. If the boy at the register thought there was anything strange about it, he didn't say so and he didn't ask her for identification which, bizarrely, irritated her. He placed the bottles into a bag and passed them to her in exchange for her money and she left the store, the glass clinking together in a faintly reassuring sound.

_Go home._

_Open a bottle._

_Forget._

She climbed the stairs to her flat, fishing her keys out of her bag in the process and then stopped dead as her door came in sight.

_Fuck._

"What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you, what does it look like?" Alex got to his feet and moved towards her. "Are you ok? We've all been worried sick about you."

"I'm sure you have," she said, jamming her key into the lock and pushing open the door. "So when should I expect the cops to arrive?"

"Nobody called the police," he replied, following her inside.

"Of course they didn't," she replied sarcastically, pulling open the fridge door, pushing in the newly purchased bottles and taking out a cold one.

"Evelyn, I promise you, nobody called the police. Sarah said she didn't want that."

She lifted a glass from the counter and unscrewed the bottle top. "Is Sarah ok?" she asked, watching the clear liquid gurgle out.

"Well her nose is sore and she looks a bit like she's had a fight with Mike Tyson but apart from that..." he paused. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

She took a long drink and then eyed him warily. "You don't have to watch if my drinking offends you. In fact, maybe you'd better just leave."

"No, I don't think I will." He leaned back against the counter opposite. "Where have you been?"

"What do you care?"

"I _do_ care actually. You ran out of the office like greased lightening! You obviously didn't come straight back here, so where did you go?"

"Why is everyone so concerned with what I do?" she snapped, pushing past him and wandering over to the couch. "I'm a grown woman and I can do what I like! Besides, I resigned, so I don't have to tell you or Sarah what I was doing."

"You didn't give notice."

She looked at him, "What?"

"You didn't give notice. Under your contract you need to give two weeks notice and you didn't so, technically..."

" _Technically,_ why don't you just fuck off and leave me alone." She drained half the glass, enjoying the sensation it gave her.

_I'm in control...I'm in control..._

"Sarah told me about Edward." She felt herself stiffen at his words. "She told me some of the things that he did to you and she told me about the shooting. I don't know, maybe she shouldn't have, but she was in shock after you left and I think she just needed someone to unburden herself to."

"Good for her."

He paused. "She also told me about Ben."

_Ben..._

"That's who you were talking about before, wasn't it? When you said that I wasn't him?"

A lump rose in her throat and she fought it down before she could reply. "Yes."

"You still love him." It was a statement, not a question.

She stole a glance at him, "Yes."

"Evelyn..." he sighed, "everything she told me...everything you've been through..."

"I don't need your opinion on it," she interrupted him. "I don't need you to tell me what you think I should have done differently or what you think about what I'm doing now."

"What _are_ you doing now? Making yourself even more miserable by drinking and..."

"And what? Sleeping around?"

"If you want to call it that."

"What would you call it then?"

He paused again, "Searching for something you've lost?"

Tears blurred her vision and she wiped her eyes angrily. "Quite the philosopher, aren't you?"

"No, but I do understand a little bit of what you're going through."

"Oh really?" Indignation flared inside her. "How many times have you been raped? How many times have you been shot? How many miscarriages have you had?"

"I'm not saying..."

"That'll be never and none then."

"I'm not saying that anything I've experienced can compare to what you've been through, of course it can't. But when Michelle and I split up it was because she was having an affair with someone else. Someone that I had, at one time, considered to be a really close friend. Finding out that they had both lied to me, repeatedly, over a number of years almost killed me. I'm not even sure that Gemma's my daughter." He paused. "She left me and moved in with him not long after Gemma was born and suddenly my life imploded. I barely saw the girls, I was alone and, yeah, I spent a good few months trawling pubs and picking up women because I wanted to feel as though I was still desirable...that someone would still want me."

"That's not why I..." she broke off.

"I know. I'm just saying, I've been there and I know that no matter how many men you end up with, you're never going to make yourself feel better that way."

She drained her glass. "So what do you suggest then, _Doctor_ Henderson?"

"I find talking about it helps."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Wanting to and needing to are two very different things."

She looked at him, at the understanding expression on his face, and wondered if he might be right. But then, therapy hadn't worked before. She had lied to Elizabeth about her feelings, about how well she thought she was doing. Why would talking to anyone else be any different?

"I..."

"Oh thank God! You're here!"

She jumped and turned to see Sarah coming through the door. Her nose was indeed swollen and it looked as though her left eye was starting to blacken, but at least she looked more relieved than angry.

"I said that I would handle this," Alex said, getting off of the couch. "I thought you were going home?"

"Well I went home but when I spoke to Nick he convinced me that I should come over here and...Jesus Evelyn...I had visions of you throwing yourself in the Thames or something!"

"Sarah..."

"I mean, what on earth was all that about earlier? All I was trying to do was..."

"Sarah, I think you should let me deal with this," Alex insisted, trying to usher her towards the door.

"Why? So you can get her into bed again?" Sarah retorted. "She doesn't need that, Alex!"

"I'm well aware of that!"

"She needs help! Listen..." Sarah body swerved him and perched on the edge of the couch. "Nick has a friend, a psychiatrist. He's a lovely man, really lovely and Nick called him and he can see you first thing tomorrow morning."

_The walls are closing in..._

"I don't need to see a psychiatrist."

"I think you do. I really think you do. I mean, what happened today wasn't normal, Evelyn. You need help, even if you don't think you do."

_I can't breathe..._

"I don't need to see a psychiatrist! I've been there before and it didn't help!"

"But this is a different psychiatrist, one you haven't met before. I'm sure he might have a different technique, something that might help..."

Alex took hold of her arm, "Sarah..."

"Please Evelyn," she shrugged him off. "Please, I really think you need to do this."

_Get away from me...get away from me..._

"Get out." There was a momentary silence and Sarah stared at her as though she hadn't quite heard right. "Get out, get out, get out, get out... _get out!"_ She got to her feet and grabbed Sarah's arm, pulling her up from the couch and pushing her towards the door. "Get out! Get out!"

"Evelyn! Evelyn, stop it!"

"Get out! Both of you! Get out!"

"You need help!" Sarah pulled her arm out of Evelyn's grip. "I'm trying to help you! Please!"

_I can't do this...I can't do this..._

"You can't help me!" she cried. "Neither of you! None of you! Nobody can help me!"

"Evelyn..." Alex tried to placate her. "Calm down..."

"You..." she rounded on him. "You with your understanding and your wanting me to talk about it and then what? We _make love_ like you suggested the last time?!"

_It's disgusting. He's disgusting. You're disgusting._

"That is _not..._ "

" _Get out!_ "

"Alright!" Sarah put up her hands. "Alright, we're going! But this can't go on Evelyn. You can't live like this. You need help!"

"Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, _fuck you_!" She pushed Sarah out of the door and then rounded on Alex again. She could hear her own laboured breathing, could taste the bitterness of the wine, could feel her anger burning and she eyeballed him, almost daring him to do or say something that would give her the justification for laying hands on him. He backed away from her out of the door and she slammed it hard, locking and double locking it then waiting until she heard their footsteps disappear down the stairs.

Then the tears came, the sobbing, the keening...much like they had when Pamela had phoned. When she had fucked up Ben's daughter like she had fucked up everything else.

So she crawled on all fours over to the kitchen, pulled herself up by the counter and lifted the wine bottle.

**New York**

"This weekend?"

"Yes, this weekend. Sunday, to be precise." Ben paused. "I told your mother I didn't know if you had plans so, if you do, now's the time to say."

Peter and Pamela exchanged glances. "What does she want to do?" the latter asked.

"She didn't specify, but the weather's meant to be good so I would assume perhaps something outdoors?"

"All of us?"

"Yes Peter, all of us." He sighed and glanced at his watch. Six-thirty. Eleven-thirty in London and Evelyn had neither picked up nor returned any of his calls. "If you don't want to do it, that's fine. I'll let her know that it's not convenient and that she'll see you the following weekend as planned."

"It's not that," Peter said. "It's just..."

"It's just what?"

"Are you and Mom going to get back together?" Pamela asked.

The question caught him completely off guard and he instinctively laughed before looking at both their expressions and realising that they were both serious. "Where did you get that idea?"

"Mark's gone, Evelyn's gone and you and Mom seem to be getting along better..." Peter shrugged. "We just wondered if maybe..."

"No, we are _not_ getting back together." They both still looked serious. "You wouldn't want that, would you?"

"I don't know, maybe," Pamela replied.

"Oh Pam..." he reached over and covered her hand with his. "Your mother and I have been divorced for a long time. We're different people now, in different places...and although we both love you very much, we're not in love with each other anymore."

"I'm not eight," she snatched her hand away.

"I never said that you were. But I'm surprised that you're bringing this up now."

"It was just a thought," she said, pushing her chair back from the table. "You don't have to make a big deal out of it." Lifting her plate, she made her way into the kitchen.

"Do you feel the same way?" Ben turned to Peter who shrugged his shoulders again. "Oh come on Peter, you guys brought it up."

"Pam's still upset that you let Evelyn leave," he said finally.

" _Let_ her leave...?"

"She's just talking crazy."

"Now wait a minute," Ben said as Peter got to his feet and Pamela came back out of the kitchen. "There is obviously some misunderstanding here. I did _not_ _let_ Evelyn leave. It was her decision to go and I tried everything I could to persuade her to stay. Pam..." he looked at her. "You must know that."

Pam shrugged and turned towards her room. "I've got homework."

"She's still thinking about the phone call," Peter offered once they were alone. "She still gets upset about it. She can't understand why Evelyn would be so upset if she was the one who wanted to go."

"What do you think?"

Peter paused, "I still think she's selfish."

 _God, if only I could tell you...but you're a kid...you don't need to know_ _about all the mess.._.

_A kid with condoms._

"Uh, actually Peter, I was hoping to have a word with you about something," he said, lifting the other dishes and heading into the kitchen, Peter trailing behind.

"What?"

"Uh...well..." he turned on the tap and started to fill the sink. "I was in your room earlier which, by the way, needs a good clean and tidy this weekend and I found something."

"Found what?"

"Well..." _God, why is this so difficult?_ "I found a box of condoms."

Peter froze slightly, his hand hovering over the cutlery drawer. "Oh."

"Yeah...and I was hoping that you might tell me why you have them."

"It's not what you think," Peter said. "I'm not having sex or anything. It was just a joke. Ryan bet me that I wasn't brave enough to go into the store and get some and I wanted to show him that I was. So I did. It was stupid, I know."

"Ok..." Ben paused. He had spent a lifetime weighing up testimony, trying to work out if someone was being truthful or not and, right now, the expertise had seemingly deserted him. "So, you don't have a girlfriend then?"

"Please," he grinned. "I'm holding out for Claire, Dad, you know that."

"Right...well, ok then."

"It's the truth, honest."

"I'll take your word for it but...uh...do we need to have a conversation?"

"A conversation about what?" Peter frowned. "Safe sex?"

"Uh...well...I suppose that was what I was alluding to, yes."

"I know how it works, Dad, I'm sixteen! Plus, we've had sex ed in school. I know all about erections and condoms and how you get a girl pregnant and what's ok and what isn't. And I know about what my responsibilities would be if something went wrong."

Ben leaned back against the counter, "Uh...if something went wrong?"

"Yeah, if I got a girl pregnant. You _don't_ run out on them. You respect their choice whether to keep the baby or have an abortion, right?"

"Uh..."

"And if they keep the baby, you step up to the plate, right?"

"Well..."

"I mean, that's what you did with Evelyn, right?"

Ben paused and looked at his son. There was no trace of malice or ridicule in his expression. He looked earnest and sincere and he found himself somewhat lost for words, both at the memory and at Peter's seeming maturity. "Uh...yes, yes it was."

"You didn't plan on her getting pregnant, did you?"

"No."

"But you stuck by her. That's what real men do, right?"

"Uh...right."

"So you have nothing to worry about." Peter turned for the door. "I'd better get my homework finished."

"Ok..." Ben turned back to the sink, feeling himself slightly faint at the conversation that had just transpired and wondering how in hell he had missed the acquisition of all Peter's knowledge.

"Dad?" He turned back around to see Peter grinning at him. "If you think this was bad, wait until you have to talk to Pam about it."

_Dear God..._

"I think I'll leave that to your mother," he replied.

Once alone, the chores completed, he found himself drawn once more to his journal, Peter's words preying on his mind.

_I suppose I never really thought much about what choices I might have had when you told me you were pregnant. Yes, I was shocked. After all I was fifty not fifteen. Accidental pregnancy isn't really something you associate with the middle aged. But even though I was shocked and even though I knew that you weren't sure what I was going to say, there was never a moment when I would have considered walking away from you. How could I have lived with myself if I'd just turned my back on you? I'm not that kind of man. I would never turn my back on you._

_I don't want to turn my back on you now. I can't. I know you need me and if that sounds egotistical then so be it. I just wish that you could see it. I just wish that if I got on a plane and came to you that you would understand why. I wish you would understand that I would be doing it because I love you and want what's best for you, not because I want to crowd you or make you do things you don't want to do._

_I don't know what to do._

_Tell me what to do._


	14. Chapter 14

**New York**

**Four days later**

"Well this is nice, isn't it?"

"Hmmm?"

"I said, this is nice, isn't it?"

Ben pulled himself back into the present moment and glanced over at Laura who was watching him, quickly melting ice cream cone in hand, her sunglasses hiding her full expression. Out on the lake, but still within view, Peter and Pamela were sharing a row boat and he could hear their bickering, carried on the still afternoon air. "Yes, it is."

Laura sighed and looked heavenwards, "I can't believe how hot it is and I can't believe how long it's been since I was last here. I mean, I honestly can't even remember. I guess it would have been when the kids were very small."

"I guess so."

"Do you remember the time we came here for a picnic one day and we lost Peter?" She laughed. "He had gone behind that big tree, bigger than him by a long shot, and we thought he'd been abducted."

He found himself smiling at the memory, "And then he didn't understand what all the fuss was about once we found him."

"Right, and he started to cry because we were shouting at him." She shook her head. "It's funny to look back now but it certainly wasn't funny then."

"No, it wasn't."

"Young kids are a handful."

"Yes they are."

She bit into her cone, "You want to tell me what's bugging you?"

He turned to look at her again, surprised by her comment. "Nothing's bugging me."

"Oh come Ben, you've been in a funny mood all afternoon. Half the time I've been convinced you haven't been listening to a word that any of us have said."

"I've got a lot on my mind."

_Four days...four days and still nothing. Why is no-one answering the Goddamn phone?_

"Let me guess, Evelyn?" He said nothing. "You know...I didn't like her when she was here and now that she's gone I like her even less."

He knew she was drawing him into an argument and a wiser man, a man with less worrying thoughts, wouldn't have taken her on, but he found himself taking the bait. "You don't know anything about her, Laura, so perhaps you should just keep your opinions to yourself."

"I can see how she's hurt you and the children. Pamela's still not right after that phone call and Peter..." she sighed. "Sometimes I wish I knew what went on in that boy's head. There's something not right there, I can tell. He's changed ever since she decided to just up and leave."

"There's more to it than that."

"Oh really? Please enlighten me because right now, as far as I'm concerned she's a selfish bitch."

"Is that where Peter got it from? You?" he snapped. "She's ill, Laura, not that I would expect you to understand anything about it."

Laura lifted her sunglasses. "What do you mean, she's ill?"

Immediately he felt bad, angry with himself that he had divulged something personal, something he was pretty sure Evelyn wouldn't want her to know, if she even knew it herself. It would only be used as further ammunition, not that Laura was in any position to criticise anyone as far as he was concerned. "It's personal."

"Well what are we talking about? Cancer?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"I'm not going to tell you!" he got to his feet and wandered over to the edge of the lake, raising his hand to wave at the children who dutifully waved back. "It's none of your business anyway."

"So..." she came up behind him. "It's something mental then."

He rounded on her, opening his mouth to respond angrily and then stopped, taking a breath before speaking. "Like I said, it's none of your business."

"Ok, maybe it isn't."

"It isn't."

She bent and lifted a stone from the ground, turning it over in her hands. "Did you know about it before she left?"

_I should have known. I should have seen it. Why didn't I see it?_

"No," he replied.

"Then how do you know about it now?"

"Can we just drop it, please?"

"Fine, let's talk about something else." She tossed the stone into the water. "Pam told me you were able to identify the man who shot Evelyn."

He frowned, "When did she tell you that?"

"The other night on the phone. You know...you'll probably shoot me down for this but I'm going to say it anyway...don't you think that it would be better to keep things like that away from the kids? They don't really have to know about it, do they?"

"That's rich coming from you," he said before he could stop himself. "I'm not the one who caused them to be dragged down a police station in the middle of the night."

She sighed heavily, "I've apologised for that I don't know how many times. Of _course_ that should never have happened and I never want them to have to go through anything like that again. And whilst you might not think it's the same thing, I stand by what I just said. Pam was a bit...funny when she mentioned it to me."

"Funny how?"

"Well she didn't say very much but I got the impression that she's worried what the consequences might be if you have to testify at trial against these people."

He didn't say anything. Ever since Elizabeth had shed light on Evelyn's likely diagnosis, he had been more determined than ever that she shouldn't testify. Lucci and Scarpetta had both been arraigned and remanded in custody and Jack was due to go to the Grand Jury later the following week. Ben had already received his subpoena and he had tried calling Jack to find out if he intended calling Evelyn but he hadn't been able to get hold of him before close of business and though he knew his home number, something had stopped him from using it.

"Is there any danger?" Laura pressed.

"No," he replied automatically.

"Then maybe you need to sit her down and tell her that and then not mention the whole sorry mess again."

His stomach knotted at her casual depiction of what had happened. "Sorry mess? Is that what you call it? Evelyn almost died! She lost our baby!"

"I know and I'm sorry for you, both of you...I'm _very_ sorry, but Pamela is my daughter and I don't want to see her frightened or upset or anything. She's only thirteen and she's already been through so much, Ben, and we are _both_ to blame for that. Like it or not we have to do everything we can to minimise further trauma for her and Peter. I know I said I wanted them back and I do...six months from now we have to go back to court and agree on what is best for them on a long term basis. I'm adult enough to be able to accept that they've settled well at their new school, they've made friends and they appear to have the relationship with you that I always wanted them to have." He raised his eyebrows. "I know I perhaps didn't make that particularly easy by taking them to Hartford when we separated but you didn't do anything to stop me and neither of us... _neither of us..._ did anything much to help foster relations. I don't want that to happen again. I really don't. If they're going to stay with you then you need to help me keep a relationship with them, just like I need to support you in your parenting. Both of us need to feel that we can raise things at times and that's why I'm raising the court case. I know Peter seems to be showing an interest in the law and it would only be natural for you to enjoy sharing one of your passions with him, with both of them. All I'm asking is that you use a little common sense and remember that, at the end of the day, they're still kids."

It was the longest sensible speech he thought he'd ever heard her make.

"You're right," he conceded. "At the end of the day, we're still their parents, no matter what we might think about each other."

"I don't think you're too bad," she nudged his arm gently. "We had some good times in the beginning. I could have picked a worse father for my kids."

"You didn't always think that."

"No...and that was wrong. I'm sorry I made you feel as though you didn't measure up."

"I'm sorry I _didn't_ measure up."

"It's water under the bridge now, right?"

He nodded and looked over to where Peter was valiantly trying to row back towards land, Pamela issuing directions. "You know, they asked me if we were going to get back together."

Laura lifted her sunglasses again and looked at him in shock, "What did you tell them?"

"I told them no."

"Thank God," she shook her head. "Whilst I've enjoyed the time we've all spent together today, I honestly couldn't imagine anything worse."

_There is something worse. There's the person you love being thousands of miles away, needing you and you doing nothing about it. Dear God, how is it that I can screw up time and time again?_

"No," he said with a smile, knowing it was the answer she was looking for. "Neither could I."

**London**

The pub felt like an old friend, a confidante, even though she never spoke to anyone beyond ordering another bottle of wine. It was, ironically, called _The Grape_ and she had stumbled upon it quite by chance a few days earlier whilst aimlessly walking the streets to avoid being in the flat. Every time she heard movement on the landing she was convinced the police were about to burst in and arrest her, not to mention the fact that Sarah and Alex had both tried at least twice to talk to her through the door, but she had just retreated into the bathroom and stayed there until they had given up. Needless to say she had gone nowhere near the office.

The interior of _The Grape_ was dim and, having found a corner table away from the main door, she found that nobody bothered her. Nobody cared about the flame haired American woman who sat there for hours drinking herself into some sort of oblivion and crying tears that she barely bothered to wipe away.

_Everything you touch turns to shit._

_You couldn't even hold on to Edward. He had to go out and find Lily and get her pregnant and have a child with her. He said he loved you and yet you couldn't even keep him._

_You threw Ben away too._

_And your job._

_Your life._

_What the fuck is wrong with you?_

It was Sunday. Ordinarily she would be at Sarah's enjoying Sunday lunch with the family, laughing and joking, talking, being part of something.

_You can't go back there. You can't ever go back there._

"So where am I supposed to go?" she mumbled, pouring the dregs of the bottle into her glass. "Where the fuck am I, Evelyn Nicholls, supposed to go?"

The time slipped by faster than she would have thought. It seemed no time at all since she had come in and, suddenly, it was last orders. Day had become night without her even realising. She pushed the chair back from the table and, rather unsteadily, made her way over to the bar.

"Another bottle please," she said, the words sounding almost foreign to her ears.

"I don't think so," the barman said, eying her warily. "I think you've had enough."

"I've got money," she opened her purse and pulled out a ten pound note. "I can pay for it."

"I know that, but I'm not willing to serve you. I'm sorry."

He turned away to another customer and she stood there, humiliated, rejected...all for the want of a fucking bottle of wine.

"Fine," she said, pushing herself back from the bar and stumbling back over to retrieve her handbag. "I'll go somewhere else. This is a fucking shithole anyway." Eyes followed her as she made her way to the door, one woman in particular looking her up and down, as though she was on sale. "What the fuck are you looking at?" she asked, stopping in front of her.

"Nothing," the woman said hurriedly, turning back to the man she was sitting with. She put her hand on his arm and shuffled her seat slightly closer.

"Lucky you," Evelyn said, the tears falling, again unchecked. "Lucky fucking you."

**New York**

The phone rang and rang and rang and, once again, clicked off without anyone answering it. Frustrated, Ben slammed the receiver back into the cradle and was then suddenly grateful that Peter and Pamela were in their rooms. So far he had managed to keep his attempts to reach Evelyn to himself, not wanting to add to any anxiety they already had, especially after what Laura had said about Pamela worrying over the court case.

After the kids had disembarked the rowing boat, they had spent another hour or so wandering through the park and, for the briefest of times, his mind had been elsewhere. But when they had waved Laura away on the evening Hartford train, everything had come back to him, the enormity of the current problem like a weight crushing his chest.

When they had returned to the apartment, he had called his mother to firm up the travel plans for three weeks time when he and the kids were going to visit her in Michigan. It had been so long since he had been back home that the thought of the trip made him feel momentarily better. But his mother knew him, almost better than he knew himself, and she had instantly picked up in his voice that something was wrong. With Pamela and Peter out of earshot he had briefly filled her in and her advice had been plain and to the point.

"Go to London."

"And say what?" he had asked her. "Do you think you might need help? Do you know you're suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder?"

"Ben, don't be flippant. Of course you would have to approach it in a much more subtle way, but you've spent years dealing with vulnerable people. Are you saying you wouldn't be able to find the words in this situation?"

"She's not just some witness in a case though. She's..."

"I know. All the more reason for you to go to her. If she's as ill as you think she is, the chances are she's not going to call you back. Sometimes in life we have to take leaps of faith without knowing where we're going to land."

He had put the phone down, almost more confused than ever, but had immediately tried to call Evelyn again, despite the hour and received no reply. Although he knew he shouldn't bother him at home on a weekend, he lifted the receiver again and quickly dialled Jack's number. He had answered on the fourth ring, clearly surprised to hear from him but at least willing to talk.

"I got my subpoena," Ben said.

"Good. I reckon it'll be Friday next week, maybe even into Monday of the following week before I need you, but I'll keep you up to date. You know how these things go."

"Yes I do." He paused. "I was wondering...have you decided whether or not you're going to call Evelyn?"

It was Jack's turn to pause. "I have to call her at this stage, Ben. I don't have a choice."

"But you don't need her!"

"I need her in order to get an indictment. Whether or not I need her at trial is a different story."

"So have you issued her with a subpoena?"

"I sent one to her address in London, yes."

"And have you heard from her?"

"No, although I did put a note inside asking her to call me so that we could organise the arrangements for the video call."

"Video call?"

"Well I'm not going to ask her to fly all the way over here to testify when there's technology available to avoid that. I'm sure the state will thank me for sparing it the cost of the airfare. I'm sure she'll call next week and we can sort it all out."

Ben shook his head, "I don't think she'll call and I don't think she'll be available for any video call either."

"What do you mean?"

"She's in trouble, Jack." His voice shook over the words. "She's in trouble and I don't know how to help her."

**London**

The bath was cool...soothing...just what she needed.

Her limbs felt heavy, her brain fogged with alcohol.

It was late. There had been no police. No Sarah. No Alex.

No-one.

No-one but her.

She ran her hands over her body, from her shoulders, down her arms, across her breasts and down over her stomach, her thighs, calves, down to her toes.

She felt nothing.

She remembered the hotel room on Park Avenue. Ben's birthday. They had shared a bath together after dinner. They had made love in it. She had been happy.

She thought she had been happy.

She slapped her fist against her forehead once, twice, three times, the purpose of which she knew not.

But it felt good.

The tap dripped, echoing around the silent room.

It was so quiet.

But it could be quieter.

She slid under the water.

**New York**

"Nothing until Thursday? You must have something."

"I'm sorry sir but this is an incredibly busy time for us. I can book you onto the early morning flight if you'd like?"

"You're supposed to be a worldwide airline and you have no seats on any flights for the next four days?"

"We have seats on many flights sir, but if you specifically wish to travel to London then I'm afraid the first availability we have is Thursday. Would you like me to book you onto the flight?"

Ben sighed heavily, running his hand over his eyes. United was the fourth airline he had tried since Jack had practically yelled at him down the phone that, in light of what he had just told him about Evelyn's condition, if he didn't go to London then he was a bigger coward than Jack had ever thought. If anything, the insinuation from someone else, Jack of all people, that he was afraid of seeing Evelyn had been the biggest motivating factor in him deciding to go. "Fine. Yes, book me onto the flight."

"And when would you like to return?"

"I don't know. Can't you give me an open-ended ticket?"

"No, I'm sorry. You'll have to give me a specific date."

"Fine...uh...five days."

"Alright then..." he heard the clicking of keys. "That is you booked onto the Thursday morning flight to London Heathrow at seven-thirty am returning to JFK the following Monday on the four-thirty flight British time. You can collect your ticket at the airport and I hope you have a super trip!"

He put the phone down without replying.

He was going to London in four days.

He would have to tell the kids.

He would have to tell Laura.

The phone rang suddenly, causing him to jump and snatch it up before either of the kids came out of their rooms.

"Hello?"

"Hi...ummm... is that Ben?"

"Who's this?" he asked, trying to place the voice.

"It's...it's Sarah Cooper, Evelyn's cousin?"

He leapt to his feet, his heart pounding. "It's about time! Do you know how often I've been calling and leaving messages for you?"

"I know. I'm sorry I haven't called you back. I...I guess I wasn't entirely sure why you were calling."

"I've been calling because I know Evelyn's ill and I'm _trying_ to find out how she is and what's going on!"

Sarah paused, "How did you know?"

Her confirmation hit him in the chest in a manner he hadn't expected. Until that moment he had only had Elizabeth's diagnosis and his own instincts. He glanced at his watch. Ten-thirty pm. Three-thirty in the morning London time.

_Oh Jesus..._

"What's happened?"

"She's...ummm..." Sarah's voice cracked slightly. "Well...I don't know what to do and I was afraid to call you back because...well because I didn't really know what to say. She's quit her job...she's drunk...she's violent..."

He sat down quickly, his stomach turning over at her words. "Violent?"

"Ben, she's a mess..." she started crying. "She's a mess and I haven't helped her and I'm terrified about what's going to happen to her. She won't listen to me, she won't get help...please...I hate asking because I know how you left things with her..."

_No, I really don't think you do._

"I'm coming," he interrupted her. "I'm coming to London. I've already booked my flight. I'm arriving on Thursday morning. It was the first flight I could get." For a moment, all he could hear was the sound of muffled crying. "Sarah?"

"Thank God," she said after a moment. "She needs you."

It was the most obvious reply in the world, but he said it anyway, and meant it.

"I need her."


	15. Chapter 15

**New York**

**Three days later**

"I still don't see why we can't come with you."

Ben finished putting the last of his clothes in his suitcase and turned to where Pamela was loitering in the bedroom doorway watching him. The morning after his conversation with Sarah he had sat both her and Peter down and explained to them, in as much detail as he felt was necessary, that Evelyn was unwell and that he had to go to London to try and help her. Pamela had been upset and worried and had immediately said that she wanted to go too. Peter had been quiet and more thoughtful at the news, offering no opinion either way.

It had been the longest three days of his life.

"It's not a vacation Pam."

"I know, but I want to see her. I want to see if she's ok."

He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, "That's very sweet of you and I know that Evelyn would appreciate that, but it's just not appropriate right now. I promise though that I will keep in touch with you and let you know how she is. And I'll be back on Monday." The final sentence was said more in hope than anything else. His mind had been in overdrive. God only knew what he was going to find when he got there.

"But you'll bring her back with you, right?"

He paused, "Well, like I said before, I'll need to wait and see how she is. She might not want to come back."

"But if she's not well then she has to come back, doesn't she?" Pamela pulled back and looked up at him.

"Maybe," he stroked her hair. "Now, do you have all your things packed for going to your mother's?" She nodded. "Ok, well go and see if Peter's ready. You don't want to miss your train." He watched as she made her way out of his room and towards her brother's, hating the fact that the whole situation was upsetting her and yet knowing that there was nothing he could do about it. After talking to the kids, his next call had been to Laura asking if they could go and stay with her until he returned. To his relief, she hadn't opined on the situation, but merely agreed that it was fine and that she would meet them off Wednesday evening's train. When he had put the phone down he couldn't help but think that, for the first time in a long time, they seemed to be co-parenting well. He hoped there wasn't a catch somewhere.

He moved his suitcase off the bed, leaving it open so that he could toss in some last minute toiletries in the morning, and traced Pamela's steps to Peter's room. They were talking together in whispers but clammed up when they saw him. "Everything ok?" he asked. "Have you got everything packed Peter?"

"Yes."

"Good, well we better think about heading to the station."

"Dad?" Peter stopped him as he turned for the door. "Are you sure that you should be doing this?"

"Taking you to the station?"

"Going to London."

Ben leaned against the doorframe. "You think I shouldn't go?" Peter said nothing. "If you have an opinion then I'd be interested to hear it."

Peter looked at the floor then glanced at Pam before meeting his gaze again. "I guess I just don't get why you're running off to see her when she was so mean to you. You told her that you loved her and you asked her not to go to London in the first place. She left and she hurt you and I...I just don't get it."

Ben smiled at him, "You're sixteen, Peter. I don't expect you to _get it_. I don't expect either of you to _get it_. Yes, she hurt me when she left but, when she decided to do that, she was already unwell and, at the time, I'm sure she thought she was doing the right thing."

"But she wasn't?" Pamela asked.

"In my opinion, no," he replied honestly. "But she needed to see that for herself."

"And now she has," Peter said.

"I think so."

"So you can just forgive her?"

_Is it as simple as that? Is it black and white? Do I need to forgive her or is there nothing to forgive? If I do this and she rejects me...how will I feel then? Will I be able to accept that I just did what any caring human being would do or will I feel as though she's ripped my heart out again?_

"It's not really a question of forgiving her," he said finally. "It's about helping someone who needs help. I'd like to think that if the situation was reversed, she would do the same for me."

"But you love her, Dad," Peter said. "And you're going to London hoping that she's going to say that she loves you too and she might not. She might just tell you to get lost."

"Yes, she might," he nodded. "But that's a chance that I'm willing to take if it means that she gets the help that she needs. Can you understand that?"

"Yes," Pamela nodded.

"Peter?"

"I guess," he shrugged.

"Well then that's all I'm asking of you right now." He glanced at his watch again. "Now, we really have to go."

In a flurry of last minute activity and one about turn due to a forgotten essential, they eventually made it to the station in time for the train, both children hugging him tightly before disappearing out of his sight to the relevant platform. When he was alone, it suddenly hit him that he wouldn't see either of them again until he had seen Evelyn, until he had seen what kind of state she was in. The thought brought a shiver to his body that lasted all the way back to the apartment, despite the warm evening air.

When he got back home, he called Jack who reassured him that the Grand Jury would be rescheduled for the following week once he had returned and that he would reserve judgement on Evelyn's involvement until he knew how serious her condition was. Then he called his mother, who told him that he was indeed doing the right thing and that she hoped everything would work out the way he wanted it to.

He thought about calling Sarah, but he had already confirmed with her the time of his flight and she had said she would meet him at the airport. He had cautiously asked about Evelyn and she had replied that nothing had changed and though he was desperate to hear it all, he knew it would be better done face to face. He had tried twice more to call Evelyn himself but, as usual, the phone simply rang out.

He was going to go to bed early in a bid to try and get some sleep before his alarm went off at an ungodly hour but something made him pause, lift the phone again and dial a different number. It rang out three times and he was about to hang up when a voice came down the line.

"Hello?"

"Susan," he said, "it's Ben."

There was a slight pause, "Oh, hello Ben. I wasn't expecting to hear from you. It's been a while now, hasn't it?"

"Yes, it has. I just wanted you to know that I'm flying to London tomorrow."

"Oh..." she sounded surprised. "To see Evelyn?"

_No, to visit the fucking Queen._

"That's right. Have you talked to her lately?"

"Oh she's always far too busy to call me," Susan laughed. "Patricia keeps me up to date through Sarah. By all accounts she's having a lovely time and she deserves it too, after everything she's been through, don't you agree?"

He fought down the urge to give it to her with both barrels, to tell her what a useless mother he thought she really was and ask her how she didn't know that her only child appeared to be on the brink of self-destruction. But it wasn't his place. All of that needed to come from Evelyn herself and he could only hope to God that one day she had the strength to say it.

"Would you like me to pass on a message when I see her?" he asked, as calmly as he could.

"Oh, just tell her I said hello. And maybe ask her to give me a call sometime? It shouldn't be too much trouble for her I wouldn't think."

"No," he agreed, "you wouldn't, would you?"

**London**

"Ladies and gentlemen welcome to London Heathrow," the pilot's staccato, almost robotic, voice came over the intercom. "The weather is a mild 18 degrees Celsius and the local time is seven twenty-seven pm. Please remain in your seats until the aircraft has come to a complete stop and the seatbelt sign has been switched off. On behalf of all of the flight crew, we wish you a very pleasant onward journey and thank you for flying United Airways."

 _A very pleasant onward journey..._ he thought to himself... _but to what?_

By the time he was making his way through the terminal towards immigration, his heart was thudding. What if this was a huge mistake? It was too late to turn back now...too late to just ask the pilot if he would mind if he got back on the plane and went home and yet he felt like running and hiding somewhere like the kids used to do when they were little and knew they were in trouble.

"Business or pleasure?" the immigration officer asked, glancing at his passport.

"Pleasure," he replied, though he felt ridiculous saying it.

"Enjoy your stay."

The baggage hall was crowded, the result of many flights all landing at once and when he reached the right carousel there were already people muttering about how long it was taking for the bags to come off. Part of him agreed with them. Part of him wanted to be on his way by now. But another part of him couldn't help but hope that there would be some sort of problem that would delay him further.

His case was one of the first to appear and as he pulled it off onto the trolley to sit with his hand luggage, he thought again about how difficult it had been deciding what to bring with him. He was only going to be in London for five days and God only knew what those five days were going to be like.

The arrivals lounge was equally as busy as the baggage hall and he scanned the faces, looking for anyone he might recognise...looking, wishfully, for her.

"Ben!"

He turned at the sound of his name and saw Sarah pushing through the crowd towards him, her face etched with both concern and relief.

"Thank God," she said, stopping in front of him and letting out a long breath. "Thank God you're here. Are these all your bags? How was your flight? You must be tired...I'm sorry..." she shook her head. "I'm babbling."

"How is she?" he asked, ignoring her questions.

"If I'm being honest, not good. Come on, my car's in the multi-storey. I'll take you to your hotel."

_Fuck that._

She turned to walk away but he took hold of her arm, preventing her from leaving. "I don't want to go to the damn hotel. I want you to take me to her."

"I think it's best that we talk first."

"Well we can talk here."

"Ben..."

"Sarah, I have just spent the last seven hours on a plane thinking all kinds of things and wondering what the hell I was going to find when I got here. I want to know what's been going on, all of it, and I want to know _now!_ "

"Fine," she sagged slightly in front of him. "Fine, there's a cafe near the exit. We can get some coffee and...and I'll tell you."

He fought down the urge to tell her that he didn't want any coffee and merely nodded, allowing her to lead the way. They picked a table and he sat waiting whilst she ordered, impatiently drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair and watching her cast glances towards him, her expression full of anxiety. By the time she returned to the table and handed him his cup, his stomach was so twisted in knots that he wasn't sure he could physically drink any of it.

He expected a preamble, a long litany of reasons why she wasn't to blame for not contacting him sooner or realising that there was a problem. Instead, to his surprise, she cut to the chase. "I think she's an alcoholic. I don't know how many bottles of wine a day she's going through, but it's a lot. And...there have been men too. I don't know how many or who they all are...I'm not even sure she knows herself." She looked away. "We went to a festival in Hyde Park a few weeks ago and she got very drunk and...and she asked me if I thought she had had sex with anyone because she couldn't even remember. I had to make her take the morning after pill and go to a sexual health clinic. When I confronted her about her behaviour, she told me that drinking and having sex is the only way she can cope with feeling the way that she does about Edward, the shooting, you..." She met his gaze again. "I'm so sorry, Ben, I didn't want to be the one to have to tell you this."

_Oh dear God..._

He shook his head, unsure if he trusted himself to say anything.

"Last week she got really angry with me when I was trying to help her..." she rubbed her hand across her eyes. "I don't know, maybe I wasn't helping her at all, I...I was worried about what she might do or say in front of clients...anyway, she hit me and she ran out of the office and she hasn't been back to work since."

_Oh Evelyn..._

"But you've seen her?" he leaned forwards. "You've spoken to her?"

"I've tried," she spread her hands. "I went to her apartment that night and she physically threw me out! I've gone to the door so many times and tried to talk to her but she's either not there or she just won't let me in. Alex has tried too and I thought...I thought he might be able to get through to her in a way I couldn't..." she tailed off.

"Alex?"

"Alex Henderson. He works for me and, well, he and Evelyn..."

"He's one of the men?"

"Yes, but it's only happened a few times as far as I know." She paused. "I know it must feel horrible hearing about it..."

_You have no idea. You have no idea at all how I feel right now._

Her ability to completely miss the point almost left him breathless. "Sarah, I don't give a damn right now who Evelyn's been with, ok? I care about the fact that she's hurting herself. I care about the fact that she's ill!" He took a few mouthfuls of coffee and then got to his feet. "I want to see her."

"You never told me how you knew," Sarah said.

"Does it matter?" he reached for his case.

"No, I suppose it doesn't."

They walked in silence to where Sarah had left her car. He loaded his case into the trunk and they drove in silence out of the airport and into the city, the buildings whizzing by the window. It was odd. He was in London, one of the major cities of the world, and he could have been anywhere. He didn't care. Every minute that the clock on the dashboard ticked by was another minute he was getting closer to her and he felt his stomach tighten again at the prospect. He could see Sarah glancing at him every so often out of the corner of her eye but she wisely said nothing. He only hoped that he could keep his anger restrained long enough.

The block of flats was in a nice enough looking area, busily populated with people going about their business and Sarah pulled to a stop at the kerb next to the main door. "I'll drop you here and go and park," she said. "There's no guarantee that she'll be there but I'm guessing you'd like to see her on your own first, right?"

He nodded and opened the door, turning to face the building as she pulled away. The main door was ajar and he took a deep breath before stepping inside and climbing the stairs to the second floor, every step filled with so many different emotions.

 _Be prepared...she might tell you she hates you on sight...she might tell you to leave...she might_ _tell you she's in love with this Alex character...she might_...

He pushed the thoughts from his mind. None of it mattered. None of it. All he wanted was for her to be ok. He reached her door and paused, wondering if there would be any answer or if, like his phone calls, he would be left wanting. He raised his fist and knocked on the door. "Evelyn?"

For a moment, all he could hear was his heart hammering in his chest and then, from the other side of the door, came a sound that chilled him. It was a shout, a shriek and a cry all rolled into one, animalistic almost, and accompanied by the sound of something heavy hitting the door and glass smashing.

" _Leave me alone!"_

"Evelyn, it's me. It's Ben."

There was a sudden silence, then a muffled cry, hurried footsteps and then a heavy thud. He could hear the sound of glass being swept across the floor and then someone fumbling with the lock. The door suddenly swung open and he looked down to be met with a ghostly face, pale with swollen red eyes, almost unrecognisable. She was half sitting, half kneeling on the floor, surrounded by what looked like the remains of a full wine bottle, her pants saturated with liquid and one hand covered in blood.

She blinked.

"Ben?"

It was the only word she was able to utter before her face crumpled and she dissolved into heaving sobs, the like of which he vividly remembered from the night she had first told him that Edward had raped her at the Algonquin.

The night he had first told her that he loved her.

_I love you. I've never stopped._

_I should have been here sooner._

"Evelyn..." he crouched down in front of her and she lurched forward, throwing her arms around his neck.

"You're here..." she sobbed, as he lifted her up into his arms and held her close. "You're here..."


	16. Chapter 16

"Elizabeth Olivet please."

"I'm sorry, Dr Olivet's with a patient at the moment."

"Well can you tell her it's urgent? It's Ben Stone calling."

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I can't disturb her session. Can I take a message?"

Ben sighed and glanced over his shoulder. Evelyn was sitting on the couch, her legs pulled up underneath her, her head pressed against the cushion, her bandaged hand resting on one knee. When he had finally managed to disentangle himself from her, he had been able to have a proper look at her wound and had been gratified to see that it was minor caused, he assumed, from when she slipped and fell onto part of the broken wine bottle she had hurled at the door. He had found a rudimentary first aid kit in one of the cupboards and had treated it as best he could while her sobs had gradually subsided and she had fallen silent despite his pathetic attempts at comforting conversation.

"Can you please have her call me at this number when she's free? Thank you." He put the phone down and then turned to where Sarah was finishing putting the last shovelful of broken glass into the trash. She had arrived a few minutes after he had managed to get Evelyn off of the floor and onto the couch and had simply stood wringing her hands until he had asked her, rather tersely, if it wouldn't be too much trouble for her to clean up the mess by the door.

"No luck?" she asked somewhat rhetorically.

"She'll call back."

"What do you want me to do now?"

He fought down the urge to be rude and tell her it was a bit late to be asking that now when there was clearly so much she should have done before. Part of him wanted to tell her to just get out and leave them alone, but he also knew that she could be useful. "I'd like you to call the airline and book us onto the first flight back to New York."

"Us?"

"Evelyn and I."

"But..." she glanced between them. "You're meant to be here until Monday and as for Evelyn..."

"I am _not_ having her stay here any longer than she needs to," he replied acerbically. "I'm going to take her home and get her the help she needs. The help that you clearly failed to get for her."

"What was I supposed to do?" Sarah stepped forwards. "I tried and..."

"Save it!" he held up his hands. "I really don't want to hear it right now. Here," he reached into his pocket, "here's my wallet. My credit card is inside." He threw it to her. "Please book the flights." She hesitated, her gaze flickering to Evelyn again, before moving over towards the phone. "Not here," he interrupted her. "I want the line to be free for when Elizabeth calls back. Can you find somewhere else to do it?"

"Oh...uh...sure," she started backing towards the door. "Will...will you be alright with her?"

"I doubt she's about to leap up and attack me," he rolled his eyes. "I'll be fine, thank you."

"Ok...I'll be back."

Sarah turned and rushed out of the door, letting it slam shut behind her, causing Evelyn to start suddenly as though she had been asleep. She lifted her head and briefly looked around the room before her gaze landed on him and she closed her eyes again. He hesitated for a moment then moved towards her and sat down on the other side of the couch, within striking distance, yet not touching her. The silence was deafening, the only noise coming from the clock ticking on the wall above their heads telling him that it was a few minutes after ten. Had it really only been two and a half hours since he had landed? So much seemed to have happened in such a short space of time.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked softly. She didn't reply, didn't even move, the only reaction being a tear sliding down her cheek. Instinctively, he reached out and brushed it away, cupping the side of her face with his hand. She turned inwards towards him, her eyes still closed, her breath warm on his palm. "I'm waiting on Liz calling me back. I'm going to take you home." She let out a low moan and her body suddenly started to shake with what he soon realised were silent sobs. He moved closer to her, intending to take her in his arms, but she pushed him away, rose up onto her knees and turned her back on him, squashing herself into the far corner of the couch and making herself small. She buried her face in one of the cushions and continued to sob, a small sound escaping every now and then.

_God I feel so helpless._

_What do I do? What do I do to help you?_

He got to his feet, walked over to the window and then turned back to look at her, digging his hands in his pockets and jingling the change that was within. He felt so out of control, so out of his depth. He tried to think back to being in court, tried to think about how he dealt with unexpected situations arising. There had always been that initial flush of panic when a witness lied or some evidence came out that he hadn't been expecting but he had always been able to take control of the situation. He had always been able to find a way to make it work for him.

_You asked for a continuance, that's what you did._

_But you can't do that here._

_That's not how it works._

The front door suddenly opened and Sarah reappeared. "I got you both booked onto a United flight that leaves tomorrow morning at ten am. You should be back in New York by lunchtime," she said, crossing the room towards him and pausing when she saw Evelyn. "Is she alright? What happened?"

He shook his head, wishing he had all the answers, and retrieved his wallet from her. "Thanks."

"What are you going to do now?"

"Stay with her. Pack some of her things for going home. I'm guessing we can deal with the rest later. If you can give me my case out of your car then I'd be grateful."

"Don't you want me to stay?"

"No thanks," he replied curtly. "I think we'll be fine."

"Ben..."

The phone suddenly shrilled, cutting off whatever it was she had been going to say and he hurried over to pick it up. "Hello?"

"Ben? It's Liz."

A sense of relief flooded through him at the sound of her voice. "Thanks for calling me back."

"It's an international number," she observed. "Are you in London?"

"Yes. I'm with Evelyn."

"That's a relief. How is she?"

"She's..." he glanced over at her shaking form. "She's not good, Liz. I don't know exactly what's happened or how she got to this point..." he looked at Sarah, "but I'm bringing her home with me. We're on a flight out of Heathrow which should land at JFK around midday tomorrow your time. I know it's a lot to ask, but could you meet us there? I really think she needs to be assessed."

Elizabeth paused, "Of course I'm happy to do that Ben, but..."

"But what?" he asked, irritated that she appeared to be derailing what, in his mind, was the perfect plan.

"If you think she's a risk to herself, or anyone else, the best thing you can do is get her to a hospital now."

He paused and looked at Sarah again. "I don't think we're at that point."

"Well can you describe her symptoms to me?"

"She's constantly crying, doesn't want to talk to anyone...it's obvious that she's been drinking heavily and...well...you get the picture."

"Any evidence of self-harm?"

"No."

"Ok, so it sounds like she's heading for a crisis then."

"Yes," he lied, knowing deep down that she was already there but not wanting to jeopardise getting her out of the country.

Elizabeth paused again. "Ben, I'm so sorry. I'll be at the airport tomorrow and then we can get her the help that she needs, ok?"

"Thanks," he replied. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I tried to get her to see a psychiatrist," Sarah said as he put the phone down. "He's one of Nick's friends. He comes highly recommended. I tried to tell her it would be good for her but she wouldn't listen."

_Stop talking, just stop talking._

"You can go now."

"But..."

"If you leave my case at the bottom of the stairs I can get it later."

"I can drive you," she said hurriedly. "I can pick you up first thing and take you to the airport."

"We'll manage."

"Please," she looked at him beseechingly. "Please let me do this."

He sighed heavily, wanting rid of her, but knowing that it would most likely be quicker and easier all round than trying to get a cab. "Fine. First thing."

"I'll be here at seven," she said, glancing at Evelyn again. "For what it's worth...I'm so sorry about all of this."

"Well it isn't worth much," he replied unkindly. "And it's all just a bit too late, don't you think?"

Sarah nodded, "I guess so." Then she left, closing the door softly this time behind her.

Evelyn gave no sign of understanding what he was doing as he moved around the flat. He found her suitcase on top of the wardrobe and, opening it on the bed, started to fill it with things that he thought she might need; a selection of clothes, shoes, jackets, bags, some toiletries and other essentials, then he found her passport in the drawer and put it into the handbag tossed carelessly onto the floor. Mentally, he checked off each item one by one, asking himself over and over what else she might need. He had no intention of taking anything to do with the flat itself. That would be up to Sarah to deal with. Wedging open the front door, he hurried down the stairs to retrieve the case that Sarah had left, picking out toiletries and a fresh set of clothes for himself for the morning before turning back to the figure on the couch.

"Evelyn?" he crouched in front of her. "Evelyn, I really think that you need to get some sleep. We've got an early start home tomorrow."

She lifted her head and looked at him, her skin blotchy, her eyes red from crying. "Home?" He nodded. "I...I can't go home. How can I go home?"

"Why wouldn't you be able to go home?"

"Because...because..." her face crumpled again, "you don't know what I've done. You don't know what I am...who I am..."

"I know that you're Evelyn Nicholls," he said. "I know that you're kind and funny. I know you like the Mets, you hate broccoli, you love pizza and horses and Letterman and that you threw up the one and only time you tried a cigarette when you were nineteen. I know that you're a good friend and..." he paused, knowing that almost anything else he could say somehow alluded to them as a couple and realising that that probably wasn't the wisest route to take right at that moment.

_I know that I love you._

She watched him, saying nothing, her cheeks still damp with tears. "You're a good person." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Yes you are. Come on," he straightened up and held up his hand, "let's get you into bed."

For a moment, he thought that she was going to push herself back into the couch but, slowly, she unfurled herself, paused and then got to her feet in front of him. She stared at his hand for a long moment then ignored it and moved into him, pressing her face against his chest and sliding her arms around his waist. His hands instinctively went to her hair, smoothing it down and running his fingers through the ends.

"I still can't believe that you're here," she said softly, tightening her grip around him. "I keep thinking...I keep thinking I'm going to open my eyes...and you'll be gone. I keep thinking I'm imagining all of this. You're not a dream are you? Tell me that I'm not dreaming."

"You're not dreaming," he replied, dropping a kiss on the top of her head before he could stop himself. She pulled back and looked up at him, her eyes shining and, for a moment, he saw himself kiss her, lift her up into his arms, carry her to bed and remind her that she was his and always would be, no matter what. He saw himself removing every trace of every other man from her mind. He saw his hands and mouth on her body, felt her move under him, heard her call out his name...

He gave himself a shake.

_You can't do that. She doesn't need that right now. Later. Much later..._

"You need to sleep," he said softly, pulling back from her and taking her hand. She followed him into the bedroom, said nothing as he pulled back the bedclothes and slid between them like a child. He pushed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead gently, like he might have done for Peter or Pamela.

"Stay with me." He paused. "Please."

He couldn't say no to her, not after all she had been through and what he knew she still had to face. Nodding, he moved around to the other side of the bed and climbed on top of the covers beside her. She rolled over towards him, burying her face in his neck, and he wrapped his arm protectively around her body, holding her against him until he felt her breathing grow steady. "I'm here," he whispered to her. "I'm here."

XXXX

He woke with a jolt.

It was morning. Light was coming through the bedroom window, but it was quiet and a quick glance at his watch told him that it was almost six am. He hadn't intended to spend the whole night in Evelyn's bed, deciding that he would wait until she was soundly asleep and then move through to the couch, but the fatigue of travelling, not to mention the stresses of the previous evening had obviously taken their toll and he found himself, still fully clothed and half tangled in the duvet. Rolling over, he saw that the other side of the bed was empty and, from the direction of the living room, could hear the sound of someone moving around.

Opening the bedroom door he immediately saw her, standing at the kitchen counter, opening a fresh bottle of wine and pouring the contents into a large glass. She seemed oblivious to his presence, watching the liquid flow, then screwing the top back on the bottle and taking a long, almost blissful drink. As she finished and made to put the glass down, she saw him and suddenly froze.

His instinct was to ask her what the hell she thought she was doing but instead, he wandered slowly over to join her. "Good morning."

Her eyes flickered all over him and the hand holding the glass started to shake. "I saw you when I woke up," she said, moving away from him. "I opened my eyes and...there you were..." She took another drink. "I thought I was having some kind of hallucination."

"No," he said with faux cheerfulness. "You're not. I'm really here. Do you have anything suitable for breakfast other than wine?"

"How did you get here?"

"I flew. I landed last night and Sarah brought me here." He turned and opened the fridge door, slightly dismayed to find nothing of any real consequence inside. But there was a pack of butter still within date and, in the bread bin next to the fridge, half a loaf that still seemed fresh. He took a few slices out and slipped them into the toaster on the counter, then switched on the coffee machine. When he turned back to face her, she was eying him suspiciously, the glass in her hand now almost empty. "Toast?" She shook her head. "You need to eat."

"Why...why is my suitcase there?" she pointed to where he had left it next to his own.

"I packed some things for you," he replied, keeping his voice as neutral as possible. "Sarah's picking us up in an hour to take us to the airport. Remember, I told you I was taking you home with me?"

Her expression grew more fearful. "I...I can't go home. I can't go with you..." She let out a strangled laugh. "It's...it's ridiculous to think that I can go with you..."

"Why?" he asked conversationally, lifting two mugs from the rack and placing them next to the coffee pot. Opening another cupboard, he found two plates, took the newly browned bread from the toaster, found a knife and started spreading butter.

"Because I...I can't."

"Here," he poured some coffee into one of the mugs and placed it down on the counter. "Have some coffee."

"I don't want coffee."

"It might make you feel better..."

"I don't want any _fucking_ coffee!" she lifted the bottle and poured more wine into her glass. "I just want to be left alone, ok? You...you don't need to be here."

"Evelyn..." he slid one of the plates over to her. "I'm here to help you."

"I don't need help. Everything's fine. _I'm_ fine. Everything's under control..." she lifted her hand and looked at the bandage, as though seeing it for the first time. He said nothing and leant back against the counter, sipping his own coffee and taking bites of toast in between. "You don't want to take me home," she said finally.

"Of course I do,"

"No..." she shook her head. "No, you don't know...you don't know what I've done..." her body started shaking again.

"I don't care," he replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Well you should! I've been...I've..." There was a sudden soft knock at the door and she leapt back, almost dropping the glass in the process, her eyes shifting wildly between him and the door.

He glanced at his watch again. Six-fifteen. Too early to be Sarah. "Do you want me to get it?"

Her hands dropped to her sides, wine sloshing out of the glass onto the floor. "I just want to be left alone," she whispered.

The knock came again and he moved across to open the door, light flooding in from the hallway revealing a man, dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, his expression shifting from hope to confusion in a matter of seconds.

"Can I help you?" Ben asked.

He heard hurried footsteps behind him and Evelyn suddenly appeared at his elbow. "See!" she exclaimed. "See! I can't go home with you! I can't go home with you because I've slept with _him_! I've slept with him and you won't want me and I can't go home with you..." She turned and rushed back into the flat, across the living room and into the bedroom, slamming the door closed behind her.

Ben turned back to the visitor, finding himself looking him up and down, comparing almost, trying to push away the vision that had suddenly lodged itself in his mind.

_You._

"I'm...uh...I'm Alex. Alex Henderson."

Ben looked at his outstretched hand.

"I'm guessing you must be Ben."


	17. Chapter 17

"It's a little early for a social call, isn't it?"

"I know," Alex said, awkwardly withdrawing his hand. "But I've been trying to speak to Evelyn for days now and every time I call by she either isn't here or doesn't answer the door. So when it opened, I thought for a moment that she might be ok."

"Well, she isn't."

"I realise that." Alex paused. "Is it alright if I come in?"

Ben found himself looking the other man up and down, sizing him up, before stepping back and opening the door wider for him to come inside. He wasn't as tall, but he was definitely broader, someone who spent some time working out.

"I guess I came at a bad moment."

_No shit Sherlock._

"I'm taking her home to New York," Ben said, walking back into the kitchen. He started to clear up the detritus of the failed breakfast, his eyes glancing every so often to the bedroom door, hoping that Evelyn might reappear.

"It didn't sound as if she was too keen on the idea."

"No," he admitted. "But she doesn't really have much choice right now."

"Doesn't she?" Alex asked. "I don't doubt she needs help, but couldn't she get that help here?"

"I don't want her here," Ben said, aware that he sounded slightly petulant. "She doesn't belong here. She belongs back home."

"With you?"

He turned back to face Alex who was now leaning against the wall, his arms crossed across his chest, his muscles more prominent, and he tried to stop imagining those arms around Evelyn. "Yes," he replied bluntly. "With me."

Alex sighed and shook his head. "You know, I've tried to help her."

_Why do people keep saying that? Especially people who quite clearly don't know what the word means?_

"Really? How? By encouraging her to get drunk and have sex with you?"

Alex smiled ruefully, "I can understand how you might feel, but you honestly have no need to be jealous."

"Jealous?" Ben scoffed. "I'm not jealous."

_You've touched her, held her, kissed her, made love to her. How the hell else do you expect me to feel?_

_She's mine._

"Look, when I first met Evelyn I thought she was attractive, mysterious, maybe a bit lonely... A foreigner trying to find her way in a new country. I liked her. I thought she was attractive and I wanted to get to know her so, yes, I encouraged her to come out for drinks with us and, yes, we ended up in bed together a few times but..."

"I really don't need to hear this..."

"Trust me, you do. It was as though she hated herself...afterwards...every time. I couldn't understand it. It wasn't until I talked to Sarah that I began to realise why." Alex paused. "She told me about you."

Ben felt himself bristle slightly at the implication that his relationship with Evelyn had been discussed so freely between Sarah and this...this other man. But he also couldn't help but admit to being curious. If he had no need to feel jealous, then what exactly had been said?

"Sarah told me how much Evelyn loves you...how much you love her. I believe _soulmates_ was the word she used. I know about Edward and some of the things that he put her through over the years, but you rescued her."

Ben shook his head, "She left Edward long before anything happened between us."

"You don't have to physically pull someone out of a situation to save them. Look, what I'm trying to say is that whatever Evelyn and I shared...it was just a physical moment and it wasn't even one that she enjoyed. Imagine how that makes _me_ feel. Knowing your partner didn't actually like what you did..." he shuddered slightly. "You and Evelyn share much more than that, so I'm right when I say that you have no need to be jealous. To trot out an old cliché, I reckon she was thinking about you the whole time."

Ben stared at him, hating the fact that he was clearly talking sense and yet grateful that he was. He wanted to despise the man in front of him, wanted to apportion some of the blame onto him for what had happened and yet, he really couldn't. He'd always considered himself a good judge of character and Alex Henderson, for what it was worth, didn't seem all that bad.

"She's not well," he divulged. "Her doctor back home thinks that she's most likely suffering from post traumatic stress disorder."

"It would make sense I suppose." Alex glanced at the bedroom door. "I guess no-one could go through all that and emerge unscathed. What time is your flight?"

"Ten. Sarah's picking us up at seven to take us to the airport," Ben looked at his watch to see the hands slip to six twenty-five.

"Why don't you let me try and talk to her?"

Ben looked up sharply at him, the feeling of camaraderie slipping slightly. If Alex had an agenda that he was going to shut it down right away. "She's coming home with me."

"I get that that's what you want, but judging from what she said when I came in it didn't sound as if you were going to get her home without physically dragging her. Why don't you let me see if I can talk her round?"

_If you're playing me..._

Ben sighed, knowing that he had to accept the other man was genuine. If he didn't, then it was only going to increase the already tense atmosphere and make Evelyn even less likely to want to leave with him. It would also give him time to grab a quick shower and change, safe in the knowledge that there was someone else in the flat able to stop her making a bolt for freedom if that's what she chose. He nodded and Alex walked over to the bedroom door, knocked softly and then pushed it open. Stepping inside, he closed it again behind him. For a moment, Ben waited, wondering if there would be sudden burst of anger from Evelyn or if she would come running out. But she didn't and, convincing himself that it was because Alex was talking to her and not that he was doing anything else, he went into the bathroom stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower.

Ten minutes later, dried and changed, he came back out into the living room to find Alex in the kitchen and the bedroom door open. Glancing inside, he could see Evelyn sitting on the bed, her head bowed.

"You should talk to her," Alex said tactfully. "I'm going to get rid of all these bottles. The bin men are due today anyway."

Ben nodded and then stepped into the room, leaving the door ajar just in case. Evelyn gave no indication that she had heard him come inside and, after hovering for a moment beside the bed, he sat down beside her and waited. For a long time she stared at the floor, then she finally lifted her head and looked over at him. "You really want to take me home?"

"Yes, I do. I want to get you the help that you need."

She shook her head sorrowfully, "I don't think anyone can help me. I've fucked everything up, Ben. I've done so many things to be ashamed of and...and I don't know if I can make it right."

"You've done nothing to feel ashamed about," he reassured her. "You're not well, sweetheart."

"Sweetheart..." she looked at him again, her eyes dancing over his face. "You know about Alex and...and there were others..."

"It doesn't matter," he said gently. "None of it matters."

"But it does," her eyes filled with tears again. "It has to..."

He reached over and took her hand, squeezing it in his. "I don't care what you've done or who you've done it with. All that matters to me right now is _you_ and making sure that _you're_ ok, but I can only do that if you come home with me."

She rubbed her free hand over her eyes and sighed heavily. "I need a drink."

"I know. We can fix that too."

"Oh God..." she pulled away and dropped her head into her hands. "I thought I was doing the right thing...I thought I was helping myself forget about Edward and Lily and the shooting and the baby and...and everything...I thought it was better that I forgot about you and I couldn't...I can't..." her body started shaking again and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him.

"I don't want you to forget about me," he said fiercely. "I never forgot about you, not for one moment and do you want to know why?" He pulled back and forced her to look at him. "Because I love you...because I want you...because you're mine, no matter what."

She nodded, but said nothing, so he pulled her into him again and held her for what seemed like hours but was, in reality, only a few minutes before Alex stuck his head around the door. "Sorry to interrupt, but that's six forty-five."

"Thanks," Ben replied, pulling away from her again and sliding down off the bed to crouch in front of her. "Sarah's going to be here soon to take us to the airport. Do you want to grab a shower before we go?" She nodded again. "Ok, I'll let you do that..." he started to get to his feet.

"Come with me," she said, taking hold of his hand, her expression fearful.

"Ok," he nodded and he followed her into the bathroom where she stripped off her clothes in front of him with little compunction and then stepped into the bathtub, drawing the curtain across to hide herself. Ben closed the toilet lid and sat down, his mind starting to work overtime. Once they got back to New York he would have to take her home with him. How was that going to work? Would it be fair on Peter and Pamela? How was he going to explain what had happened?

He looked at his watch again. It would be the middle of the night back home so there was no way that he could call them now. He would have to wait until he landed, until after Elizabeth had seen her, before he could give them any sort of update.

Realising suddenly that there was no movement on the other side of the curtain, he got to his feet. "Evelyn?" There was no reply so he tentatively peered around the edge to see her standing facing the wall, one hand bracing herself, her head down. "Are you ok?" She made no move to respond. "Evelyn?" He pulled the curtain all the way back, ignoring the spray of water. "Evelyn?" Again there was no response so he leaned over and turned off the taps. The water drained to a trickle but she still remained in the same position, almost as if she hadn't even noticed. Glancing around, he lifted a clean towel from the rack and opened it up. "Sweetheart?" She started suddenly at his voice and turned to look at him. "Come on," he coaxed her. "Time to get out." Like a child, she once again acquiesced, stepping out onto the rug and allowing him to wrap the towel around her and gently rub her hair and body with it. When he had done as much as he could, he stepped back over towards the door. "I'll let you get dressed."

Outside the bathroom, he was surprised to see Sarah sitting on the edge of the couch, but a quick glance at the clock told him that it was just gone seven. "Morning," she said, her tone uncertain. "How is she?"

"As well as can be expected," he replied, moving over to close up both suitcases and then check that he had both passports. "Once she comes out I reckon we're ready to go."

"I'll take these cases down to the car," Alex offered.

"Thank you." When they were alone, he turned back to Sarah. "Can I assume that you can deal with this place?"

"Yes," she replied. "Nick can help me clear it out, plus I know the landlord so I can sort something out with the lease."

"Good."

"Ben, I don't want to part on bad terms with her."

"That'll be up to you," he said, "but she can't handle a lot of stress right now so please, don't put anymore on her just because you're feeling guilty."

"You hate me, don't you?" she looked squarely at him.

"No," he replied honestly. "I don't hate you, but now isn't the time and place to get into a debate about it." The bathroom door opened and Evelyn appeared, dressed, her hair fluffy from the humidity in the room, her face pale, her eyes red. "Ready to go?"

She nodded and took a breath, "I need a drink."

"I don't think that's a very..."

"I don't care what you think. I need a drink." She moved past him into the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulled out a half empty bottle, unscrewed the top and put it to her lips. He watched, almost mesmerised at the motion of her throat as the liquid poured down, then she pulled the bottle back and placed it onto the counter, wiping her hand across her mouth as she did so. Looking up, she saw them both watching and a look of anger flashed across her face. "I don't care what you think, ok? I don't care."

"That's fine," Ben said calmly.

"I don't care..." her voice wobbled and she put her hands over her face. "I don't care, I don't care, I don't care..."

"Ok..." he moved over to her and put his arm around her waist. "I think it's time we went. We don't want to miss the plane." She offered no resistance as he helped her out of the flat and down the stairs to where Sarah's car was sitting at the door, Alex hovering beside it. Evelyn gave no indication that she cared he was there, allowing Ben to open the back passenger door and help her slide inside. Closing the door, he turned to the other man and extended his hand. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Alex replied, returning the gesture. "I hope that everything works out. I'm sure Sarah can let me know how you get on."

Ben nodded, following Evelyn into the car and buckling her seatbelt for her. She shifted away from him into the corner, making herself small again as she had done on the couch and all he could do was rest a supportive hand gently on her thigh for the journey to the airport.

"Will you call me when you get back?" Sarah asked, as they disembarked at the departure terminal. "I want to know that she's ok."

"Yes," he replied. "I'll call you. Thanks for the lift."

"Evelyn?" Sarah turned to where she was standing close to Ben, her eyes on the ground. "Take care of yourself, ok?" Evelyn gave no hint of response, so Sarah stepped over and swiftly kissed her cheek before climbing back into the car and driving off.

The terminal was busy and Ben was glad once they had collected their tickets, checked in and deposited their cases. It made it easier to hold onto Evelyn who seemed reluctant to move an inch from his side. He kept his arm around her all the way up the escalators and through the security checkpoint to the gate. There was just over an hour before the flight was due to board so he bought two coffees and a Danish and sat her down in a seat near the large window overlooking the runways. He drank his coffee and tried to convince her to do likewise but she ignored him, flitting between staring out of the window one moment and burying her face in his shoulder the next.

For something to do, he started talking. Generalities at first, the weather, the news, sports...then he told her how much he had objected to Adam finding him a new assistant all those months earlier, how he thought he had been fine after Paul left and ultimately how wrong he had been.

"I liked it when we worked together," he said softly. "I liked having you near me." She didn't reply, only buried herself closer to him and he wrapped his arm around her again and held her tightly, periodically kissing her forehead and stroking her hair. At one point, she pulled back and looked at him, her mouth mere inches from his and he dropped a soft kiss on her lips that she neither resisted nor attempted to respond to, instead simply resting her head against him again and staying that way until their flight was called for boarding.

She chose the window seat without recourse to him, settled herself in and turned away towards the window, closing her eyes and remaining that way whilst the remaining passengers boarded, throughout the safety briefing and as they were taxi-ing down the runway. Once they were in the air, she unbuckled her seatbelt, pulled her legs up underneath her and turned further away. When the stewardess came around to offer drinks, she remained detached so, against his better judgement, he purchased a couple of small bottles of wine and slid them into the front seat pocket.

_You're enabling her, but maybe it's the right thing to do just now._

By the time food was being served, she had straightened herself in her seat, her gaze fixed firmly on the sky outside. He accepted a tray on her behalf, folded down her table and set it down in front of her. At first she ignored it but, gradually, she grew interested enough to take a bite of the sandwich and drink the orange juice that accompanied it, her gaze then flitting around the cabin as though looking for someone or something.

Reluctantly, he pulled one of the bottles out from the seat pocket and handed it to her. She took it, looked at it then at him before slowly opening the cap and taking a sip. She had drained it within seconds, her eyes growing wet as she did so, her face crumpling when she was finished, her hands flying to cover herself once the bottle was empty, her shoulders shaking.

"It's alright," he whispered, pushing up the armrest between them and sliding her close to him. "I promise it's going to be alright."

"What's wrong with me?" she asked, tears trickling down her cheeks.

"You're ill, sweetheart, but we're going to get you some help, I promise you that."

"Don't leave me."

"I won't," he said, as she fell asleep against him, waking only as the plane began its descent into JFK a few hours later and he buckled the seatbelt around her. "We're home," he said, as she lifted her head when the wheels touched down.

The journey from the plane through to baggage claim and the arrivals lounge seemed to take forever. He guided her all the way, one hand pushing the trolley, the other on the small of her back. She walked, one foot in front of the other, but he could tell that she wasn't really in the moment. Her gaze was fixed firmly on the floor in front of her and she paid no heed to anyone around her. Finally to his relief, in the distance, he caught sight of Elizabeth within the crowd and lifted his hand to signal to her. She returned the gesture and then turned to someone standing beside her. As they grew closer, he saw Mike turn to face them.

Ben paused as they reached each other, his arm instinctively going around Evelyn's waist and pulling her into him. "Elizabeth...we don't need the police..."

"Mike's not on duty," she interrupted him hastily.

"I'm just here as a friend," he confirmed. "I just want to help, if I can."

Evelyn looked up at the sound of their voices and he felt her stiffen and move closer to him. "It's ok," he reassured her. "Liz is here to help."

"I spoke to the airport manager," Mike said. "He said there's an office just off to the left that we can use."

"Hi Evelyn," Elizabeth said. "I was hoping that we could talk."

Through gentle persuasion, and a promise that he wasn't going anywhere, Ben managed to encourage Evelyn into the office with Elizabeth. The door had a window, but the glass was frosted so he had no way of seeing inside. Feeling suddenly exhausted, he sank down into the bank of chairs fixed against the wall and rubbed his hands over his face.

"It must be tough," Mike said from his position a few feet away. "Seeing her like this. I know if it was Lizzie..."

Ben tuned out, trying to orient himself to time and place. His watch was still on London time, so he quickly altered it and suddenly wondered if he had time to call Peter and Pamela. If anything, he was sure that the news he had been to London and back in just over twenty-four hours might amuse them.

Before he could think about looking for the nearest payphone, the office door opened again and Elizabeth came out, drawing it half shut behind her. She gestured to Mike who moved to stand in front of it and then motioned to Ben to follow her a few feet away.

"I have a friend," she said. "I've known him for years. We were at school together and for the last ten years he's been running a facility up in Barryville."

"What kind of facility?"

"A residential treatment facility. His name's Harry Dunn and he specialises in post traumatic stress disorder and its links with substance abuse. I took the liberty of calling him yesterday after I spoke to you and he told me that he has a place available for Evelyn."

Ben paused, "So...you're convinced that's what wrong with her?"

"From speaking to her, albeit briefly, it seems to me that she's experiencing what we call 'burnout.' It's when the body reaches its maximum capacity for stress and starts to shut down. It's basically the final step before a full mental breakdown. I'm convinced that her official diagnosis would be one of PTSD but Harry would be able to confirm that once he sees her."

"And the alcohol?"

"She's shaking right now." She paused. "Has she had a drink today?"

"Yes, more than one." Elizabeth didn't say anything. "Residential treatment...I mean...there's no way that I could just...take her home with me?"

"No...but I think that you know that."

_You have to do this. You know it's the right thing._

He nodded. "When they can take her?"

"Today. We can take her there. Mike can drive us."

"Liz, I'm grateful but...you don't have to..."

She put her hand on his arm, "Yes I do."


	18. Chapter 18

"Where are we going?" Evelyn asked as Mike opened the back passenger door for her.

"Somewhere you can get some help," Ben replied.

"What, like a funny farm?" she glared at him. "I'm not crazy."

"No-one is suggesting that you are..."

"I'm not!" she balled her fists at her side and took a step away from the car. "I don't need to be locked up!"

"Evelyn, no-one is going to lock you up," Elizabeth said. "We all just want to help you get better." Evelyn put her hands over her face. "You know something's not right. You know that it's shit feeling the way that you do and you know that unless you get some help, you're always going to feel this way."

Evelyn turned her back on them, her hands still over her face, so Ben made his way around to face her and put his hands gently on her shoulders. "Sweetheart, look at me." She shook her head. "Please?" After a long moment, she finally did as bidden, her gaze meeting his. "I would never do anything to hurt you, you know that. I promise you that if you get where we're going and you don't want to stay, you don't have to."

Elizabeth took a step forwards, "Ben..."

"I promise," he ignored her, holding Evelyn's gaze. "Ok?" She nodded, then closed her eyes and stepped into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "It's going to be ok," he reassured her until she eventually moved away from him back towards the car and slid inside.

"She needs treatment Ben," Elizabeth said, as he walked around to the other door. "Running away really isn't an option right now."

"I know that," he said. "But I'm not going to let them drag her away in restraints or...or inject her with some sort of sedative in order to get her to comply. If that's the kind of place it is then let's just forget the whole thing."

"It isn't."

"Fine." He opened the door and slipped in beside Evelyn who automatically moved herself closer to him and once again rested her head against his shoulder. He fastened her seatbelt for her and then slid his arm around her, holding her close as Mike drove out of the parking lot and towards the freeway. He knew nothing about Barryville other than it was a pretty small place in Sullivan County at least a good two hours drive away. At first they drove in silence, then Elizabeth and Mike started chatting quietly in the front and eventually Mike put the radio on, a country station where Dolly and Kenny and many others crooned softly as the landmarks flew past the windows. Evelyn shifted in her seat a few times, eventually sliding down so that she was lying across his lap, her body rising and falling in the guise of easy sleep.

The time passed relatively quickly and, just before they were about to enter Barryville itself, Mike hung a left and turned up a long gravel road that twisted and turned through the trees before opening up to reveal a large building sat atop a hill, looking down the valley. A sign outside proclaimed it to be 'First Steps.'

Mike pulled the car to a halt at the main entrance and Elizabeth turned around in her seat. "We'll take her inside and Mike can wait by the car. Harry's expecting us."

Ben nodded and gently nudged Evelyn who pulled herself up into a seated position and rubbed her eyes. "Are we here?"

"Yes," he replied, unclipping her seatbelt. Unprompted, she pushed open the car door and stepped outside, blinking in the sunshine and shading her eyes as she gazed around. He followed suit and came around the car to stand beside her. "It's so quiet." She didn't say anything and he couldn't help but wonder what was going on in her head. Hearing the sound of voices behind him, he turned to see Elizabeth talking with a man at the foot of the steps. When she saw him watching, she smiled and motioned for him to bring Evelyn over. "Come on," he said, taking her hand. Obediently, she followed him, but she stayed close to his side.

"This must be Evelyn," the man said cheerfully. "I'm Harry Dunn."

"Ben Stone," Ben replied, shaking his hand.

"Thanks for making the journey."

"It's beautiful."

"Yes, we're very proud of our location here," Harry said. "Would you like to come inside? We can talk in my office." He turned and started making his way back up the steps, Elizabeth behind. Ben made to follow but Evelyn suddenly went rigid, gripping onto his hand and preventing him from moving. He turned back to face her and saw the fear on her face.

"It's alright. I'm right here." He felt her relax and they climbed the steps together and inside the building. The silence inside surprised him. Although there were people walking around, there was a sense of hush only broken when they walked past a set of double doors and a large burst of laughter came from within.

"One of our group sessions," Harry explained. "It may be generally peaceful up here but it's certainly not a monastery." Opening a door to the left, he ushered them inside. "Please, make yourselves comfortable."

Rather than having the appearance of a typical office, Ben found himself in a large bright room, the windows open, the net curtains blowing gently in the breeze. There were a number of large couches set around a low slung coffee table and Harry directed them to sit.

"You must be exhausted, having come all the way from London," he said, his comment directed at Evelyn, who said nothing.

"It's been a pretty long day already," Ben admitted.

"I can imagine." Harry paused. "I've obviously had a long discussion with Elizabeth about what we can provide here. What I would like to do is have a chat with Evelyn in private and then we can all talk some more about how we take things from here. Would that be ok?"

"Yes," Ben replied, looking at Evelyn. "Is that ok with you?" She hesitated and then nodded.

"Perfect," Harry said. "Please feel free to help yourself to some refreshments in the canteen. We shouldn't be more than half an hour."

XXXX

"You should try and eat something," Elizabeth said, pouring herself a coffee from the pot on the side. "You look terrible."

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry. Besides, I had something on the plane."

Rather than argue with him, she simply put the pot down and took a sip from the cup. "You're doing the right thing, Ben."

"Am I?" he asked. "Is it even up to me to decide this for her?"

"You know that she needs help."

"I know that...I do, it's just..." he broke off. "Leaving her here..."

"It's a wonderful facility," she reassured him, "not to mention it's far enough away from the city that it's unlikely that she's going to run into anyone she knows. She can be anonymous here and take the time she needs to get better."

"And what if she can't get better?" he looked at her. "What if she's not able to get over this?"

"It's not about getting over it. It's about learning to live with your demons. It's about developing coping strategies over time so that when she thinks about Edward, as she undoubtedly will, she knows how to deal with it in a way that isn't self-destructive."

"You mean standing on her own two feet?"

"Exactly."

He looked down at the floor, "That's what you were trying to tell me all those months ago, wasn't it? When she turned up at your office that day after pulling the gun on Edward and you found out about us. You said then that she needed to find her own coping skills."

Elizabeth smiled ruefully, "I didn't make a very good job of helping her with that."

"It's hardly your fault."

"I should have seen it," she shook her head. "I should have recognised that she wasn't being honest with me in her sessions. I should have been able to see that there was something more going on...and I didn't. I don't feel particularly proud of that. I know what it's like to fake being ok. I should have seen it." She sipped her coffee and wandered over towards the window.

"Well you're not the only one," he said, joining her. "I lived with her. I should have noticed that things weren't right."

"Sometimes the people closest to us see what they want to see."

"I guess." He paused. "So, things with Logan are going well then."

"Yes," her cheeks pinked slightly.

"He seems like a decent guy."

"He is," she smiled. "He makes me happy."

"I'm glad."

She excused herself then, as though suddenly remembering Mike was there, and he watched her hurry out of the room and down the steps towards the car park where he could see Mike leaning against the bonnet, his face upturned towards the sun. When Elizabeth reached him, Ben watched as Mike slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her into him, holding her in a tender embrace.

He felt happy for her, of course he did, he just wished...

"Mr Stone?"

Turning, he saw Harry standing in the doorway. "Please, call me Ben," he said, walking over to join him. "Is Evelyn alright?"

"She's fine. I'm having one of our staff members show her to her room."

Ben paused. "Then you're definitely going to admit her?"

Harry nodded. "From the brief discussion I've had with her, she's clearly exhibiting all the symptoms of burnout and, from what Liz has told me, it's no wonder that it's come about as a result of everything that's happened to her."

"Do you think she has PTSD?"

"Yes, without a shadow of a doubt." Harry gestured to a vacant table near the window. "Most people assume that PTSD consists of a person suffering flashbacks to one traumatic incident and, whilst that's often true, it isn't unusual for it to come about from a series of incidents that a person often jumbles together in their mind. Obviously when we delve deeper into therapy with her, we'll get a much better handle on what her triggers are, but an educated diagnosis would suggest that it's been brewing for some years and her being shot last year, along with the court case, has brought it to the surface."

Ben sat back in his chair, "And the alcohol?"

"It's a common coping mechanism. A person feels out of control so they turn to something that they think they _can_ control, be it drugs, alcohol, sometimes even food. What they're not able to rationalise, however, is that what they think they are in control of is, in reality, in control of them." Harry paused. "I won't lie to you, our program here isn't easy and, as Evelyn isn't here under a court mandate, if she chooses to leave at any time, provided she isn't considered a danger to herself or others, we can't stop her."

"I understand that."

"The program lasts eight weeks and during that time, we have strict rules about contact, specifically no contact with friends and family for the first three weeks."

Ben felt his stomach drop, "Three weeks?"

Harry nodded. "You can, of course, call to ask how she's doing, but you won't be able to speak to her personally until those three weeks are up. We have the rule because, sometimes, it can take three weeks for a guest to settle and, often, talking to friends and family disrupts that. Now...I know that you and Evelyn aren't married and that, technically, you're not her next of kin, but I _am_ prepared to allow you to have the information that any next of kin would normally receive."

"Thank you."

"As for the fees..."

"It's not a problem," he said quickly. "I can pay whatever you need."

"I've taken the liberty of drawing up an invoice," Harry said. "I've modified it as much as I can, but unfortunately, we also require payment for the first four weeks in full, prior to treatment commencing."

"Fine," Ben said, "as long as you take credit cards."

"We do." Harry smiled. "I know it maybe doesn't feel like it right now, but bringing her here was the right thing to do. We can help her get through this." A lump formed in his throat and, not trusting himself to speak, he simply nodded. "I know it might sound harsh, but we don't encourage family and friends to linger too long once a guest has been admitted. Perhaps you could bring her things in and then say your goodbyes."

_So soon...? But I just got her back..._

"Of course," he heard himself reply. "I'll get her case from the car."

"Everything ok?" Elizabeth asked, as he emerged down the steps back into the sunshine.

"Yes, she's been admitted. He just wants me to give her things and then go."

She put her hand on his arm, "I know it's hard, Ben..."

Mike opened the trunk and lifted out Evelyn's case. "You want me to take it in?"

"No thanks, I can do it." Reaching into the trunk, he rooted around in his own bag, pulled something out and then turned back towards the building, pulling the case behind him up and along the ramp and inside where Harry was waiting. A tall blonde woman appeared and took the case from him and Harry directed him back along to his office where he quickly read over the invoice and made the card payment.

"Thank you," Harry said, passing him a receipt. "Evelyn's in our side garden enjoying the sunshine. You can talk to her there. Take as much time as you need."

The side garden was equally as peaceful as the rest of the place. It was wide and green with a large patio near the doors with tables, chairs and umbrellas all set out. There were rose bushes all around the boundary and, in the breeze, he could smell their heady perfume. Evelyn was sitting on a bench next to a small pool, her elbows resting on her knees, her head down.

"Hi," he said as he approached. Her head flew up and she squinted at him in the sun. Sitting down on the bench beside her, her took her hand in his. "How are you feeling?"

"Sick," she replied. "I need a drink." He didn't reply. "Do you have to go back to the city?"

He felt his chest tighten, "Yes.

She nodded, tears filling her eyes, "I don't know if I can do this."

"Yes you can," he slid his arm around her shoulder. "You are one of the strongest people I have ever met and you _can_ do this. Harry's going to help you and, once he does, you're going to feel a whole lot better than you do now, I promise you."

She looked up into his eyes. "Will you come back for me?"

_As if I could ever abandon you..._

"Of course I will. And I'm going to call as often as I can and we'll be able to talk eventually, if you want to."

"I want to forget," she said, the tears slipping down her cheeks. "I want to forget about all of it. Edward, Lily, little Jack, the shooting, the baby...I just want to forget."

"I know," he reached out and brushed her cheek with his hand. "I know you do."

"I need them all out of my head. I need..." she broke off and buried her face in his neck. "Don't hate me, please don't hate me."

"I could never hate you," he squeezed her tightly. "Never in a million years could I hate you. You know that I love you." He cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. "You're mine, Evelyn and I'm yours and I don't ever want you to forget that." He pressed his lips to hers and she responded, opening her mouth, meeting his tongue with her own, pulling her into him and, quite literally, taking his breath away. When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers. "I have to go." She nodded mutely. "I want you to have this."

She moved back and looked at the notebook in his hand. "What is it?"

"Just something I wrote," he replied, passing it to her. "I don't know if it'll help you but..."

"Thank you," she said, running her fingers over the cover.

He wanted to linger, was desperate to, but he knew that Harry was right in what he had said. It wouldn't be good for either of them. Fighting back hiis own tears, he got to his feet, bent and kissed her swiftly on the cheek and then walked away back across the garden, back through the french doors, along the corridor and back down the steps to where Elizabeth and Mike were waiting.

"Is she alright?" Elizabeth asked.

"She'll be fine," he replied with as much conviction as he could muster.

"Are _you_ alright?" Mike asked.

"No," he said, opening the car door. "No, I'm not."

XXXX

The journey back took longer than anticipated, the afternoon traffic hampering progress the nearer they got to the city. By the time Mike pulled up outside his apartment, it was almost seven-thirty and a wave of exhaustion hit him as he got out of the car.

"What are you doing this weekend?" Elizabeth asked as he took his case out of the trunk.

"I don't know. I was meant to be in London so..."

"Why not have dinner with us tomorrow?" she said. "Nothing fancy, just Melons, say seven o'clock?"

He shook his head, "I don't want to impose."

"You wouldn't be imposing," she insisted. "Look, you don't have to decide right now. The kids are still with Laura, right?" he nodded. "Take some time and give me a call tomorrow afternoon."

"Ok," he agreed. "Thank you for everything you've done, both of you."

"What are friends for?" she hugged him briefly, then climbed back into the car and he watched as they disappeared down the street.

The apartment felt so empty and quiet, moreso than it ever had any other time he had been alone. He dumped his case by the door, opened it and took out the few items that would require to be washed. Everything else was still neatly packed inside so he simply closed the lid again and threw himself down on the sofa.

He woke, suddenly, two hours later, his stomach grumbling and his mouth dry. Ordering some Chinese food, he quickly showered and pulled on a pair of old sweats before heading into the kitchen and opening the fridge. Several bottles of beer looked back at him and he reached in to retrieve one, then stopped.

Evelyn was probably going cold turkey by now.

_If she can't drink, then neither will I._

He selected a soda instead then turned to the calendar hung on the wall.

_Three weeks._

He lifted the pen that always sat underneath it and drew a circle around the date three weeks hence. It was the day before he and the children were due to fly to Michigan to see his mother. Two deadlines that he had to work towards.

_You can do this. If she can do this then so can you._

Slowly, he sipped his soda and wandered back through to the living room and over to the phone. It was only nine-thirty. He knew the kids would still be up and he suddenly found himself desperate to hear their voices.

He lifted the receiver and dialled Laura's number.


	19. Chapter 19

Part of him had hoped that Elizabeth might forget her dinner invitation. After all, he wasn't sure how Mike would feel about sharing her for an evening, particularly as she had asked him out with the other man's hearing, and he wasn't convinced that he himself would be the best company. Laura had been appropriately sympathetic when he had telephoned and relayed to her, as much as he felt he could, about what had happened over the previous thirty-six hours and she had ended the conversation by explaining that her parents were down at their summer house in Florida and they had asked if she and the children would like to join them for a week before Peter and Pamela were due to start their summer camps back in the city.

"Would you be ok with that?" she had asked, somewhat cautiously.

Although a pang of loneliness had struck him at the thought of not seeing the kids, he had quickly agreed knowing that it would be something that they would enjoy, and it seemed only fair given that he would be taking them to Michigan. When he had eventually spoken to Peter and Pamela, the conversation had been about generalities, with him telling them that their mother would be able to better explain what had happened in London than he felt he was able to. By the time he came off the phone he felt exhausted again and barely managed to eat any of the food he had ordered before falling into bed.

When he woke, it was late morning and after a hastily thrown together breakfast, he found himself contemplating how to spend the rest of the day. He rang Jack at home but, almost to his relief, got no answer. There was no way Evelyn could testify before the Grand Jury and he could only hope that when he did finally speak to the other man, he would feel the same way. On a whim, he called Paul, who seemed surprised and pleased to hear from him and they made a date to play some tennis the following week. It was something they had done often in their days at the DA's office together and he had to admit, he missed the male camaraderie.

He wanted to call 'First Steps' and find out how Evelyn's first night had been, but he stopped himself, rationalising that it was too soon and, if they told him she wasn't doing well, he knew it would only make him feel a million times worse than he already did.

The phone rang just after lunch and, when he picked it up, Elizabeth's breezy voice came down the line. "Are you still up for this evening?"

"Are you sure you want me to come with you?" he asked. "I don't want to intrude on your time with Mike."

"Don't be silly," she said. "Mike and I dine out together all the time. It'll be nice to have a different conversation for once. Please come."

He had eventually agreed and, just before seven, found himself pushing open the door to _Melons_ and walking inside. He gave the server Elizabeth's name and was quickly shown to a table whereupon he ordered a club soda and waited, watching the other patrons milling around. It was a Saturday evening so, inevitably, many of them were in couples and he couldn't help but feel downhearted, even more so than he thought he ever had when Evelyn had initially fled to London.

"Ben!"Looking up from the menu, he saw Elizabeth waving to him from the door and then she and Mike threaded their way through the tables to join them. He got to his feet as she approached and kissed her on the cheek before shaking Mike's hand. The server took another drinks order and the three of them settled down into their seats. "I'm glad you decided to come."

"Thanks for the invitation," he replied.

"How are you?"

He shrugged. "Fine."

"Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Surprisingly, yes. I actually slept pretty well."

"That's good."

"Have you heard anything from Evelyn?" Mike asked.

"Uh...no. I'm not allowed to talk to her for at least three weeks."

"Wow, that's a long time."

"I can call to find out how she's doing, but I figured I should let her maybe get the weekend over with before I do."

"That sounds sensible," Elizabeth said, perusing the menu. "Well, I think that I'm going to have the roasted chicken breast."

"Bacon cheeseburger," Mike said decisively.

Ben looked down at what was on offer and found that he didn't feel hungry at all. The drinks menu, by contrast, looked far more appealing but he reminded himself of the decision he had made the previous evening, not to mention the fact that if he started on the liquor, there was no telling what he might say or do. "I'll have the warm chicken salad." The server returned with their drinks and quickly took the food order.

"So my godfather called me today," Elizabeth said conversationally, leaning back in her chair. "It's my godmother's birthday next weekend and he wanted my advice on what to get her as a gift."

"Is it a special birthday?" Ben asked.

"No, just a regular one."

"Jewellery, right?" Mike said, looking at him for support. "It's got to be jewellery."

"No," Elizabeth shook her head, "Miranda has more jewels than you could shake a stick at. I think he was wanting me to come up with something a little more...creative."

"Well what does she want, a trip to Aruba?" Mike asked.

"They were there last summer, so I don't think that would do it."

Mike started laughing, "Wow, Lizzie..."

"What?" she looked at him with surprise.

"Nothing," he shook his head. "It just never ceases to amaze me how different our upbringings were." Elizabeth's mouth tightened slightly, but she said nothing. "What about your folks Ben? They into jewels and trips to Aruba?"

"Uh...not really," Ben replied, sensing the slight tension. "My father's been dead for years now and my mother still lives, fairly comfortably, just outside of Detroit. In fact, I'm taking the kids to visit her in a few weeks time."

"Oh, that'll be nice," Elizabeth said. "Have they ever been to visit her there before?"

"Once or twice when they were younger but after Laura and I got divorced..."

"Must have been rough," Mike offered as the server arrived with their order. The conversation moved on and he started talking about a case that he and Lennie were currently working on involving the murder of two young prostitutes on the lower east side. "Pretty nasty stuff," he said, pumping ketchup onto his burger. "He slit the first one from ear to ear."

"Delightful," Elizabeth commented dryly.

"I mean, once we get him it's got to be straight up murder two, right counsellor?"

Ben smiled ruefully, "I'm not sure you get to call me that anymore."

"You're still a member of the bar," Elizabeth said. "You could practice law any time that you wanted, couldn't you?"

"True..."

"When do you start at Columbia?"

"Not until September."

"So you're going to be lecturing to a classroom full of kids?" Mike asked. "I hope you make it interesting for them."

"I'll do my best." He ate his salad, admitting to himself and his companions that it was delicious and even managed to find room for some vanilla bean cheesecake before rounding off with coffee. Despite the slight frisson of tension that reared its head every so often during the conversation, he actually enjoyed his evening with them and was genuinely sorry when it was time to part company.

"This is on us," Elizabeth said, pulling her purse out of her bag.

"Oh no..." he protested. "No, I couldn't..."

"You can and you will," she insisted. "What kind of friend would I be if I couldn't buy you dinner every now and again?"

He paused, "We've always been close colleagues, Liz. I suppose I never thought of us as, well, friends."

If she had taken the comment ill-out, her expression didn't show it. Instead, she smiled broadly at him and kissed his cheek. "Well maybe it's time that you did. Life's precious, Ben, and we all need people around to support us."

He thought about her words all the way back to his apartment and couldn't help but think that she was right. To have nobody must be a terrible thing and it hurt him to think that that might have been how Evelyn had felt all that time in London. Though jealously often still reared its ugly head, he was starting to feel as though he could understand why she might have sought out male company. After all, hadn't he almost done the same thing with the waitress in the jazz bar?

Whatever she needed, whatever she wanted...he would be there for her.

**Three days later**

"I wasn't sure whether or not to call you," Jack said, leaning back in his chair. "Claire ran into Logan down at the precinct yesterday and he told her that you went to London and back in one day."

Ben nodded, seating himself on the opposite side of the desk. "I don't know how much Logan told Claire..."

"Not any more than that really."

"Well, Evelyn's in a treatment facility upstate and she's going to be there for, at least, the next eight weeks."

Jack paused, "I'm sorry."

"I'm not," he said honestly. "It's the best place for her right now. She's got a lot of issues that she needs to work through. Look Jack, the reason I came down here was to tell you that she can't testify before the Grand Jury. Even if she wasn't physically unavailable, mentally I think it would break her right now."

"I can understand that," Jack nodded. "Grand Jury's been rescheduled for next week. I was thinking about it over the weekend and I've decided not to use her, at least at Grand Jury level. If we get an indictment on Lucci and Scarpetta I might need to rethink that come trial."

"But you can't lay that on her," he leaned forwards. "When she comes home I don't want her to have to think about anything to do with the shooting."

"Ben, I know this is difficult..."

"No you don't. You have no idea. Testifying against Edward is partly responsible for her being the way she is and you ask her to go into a courtroom and relive what happened on the street that night..."

"It's potentially the only way to get a conviction."

"Then make a deal!"

"It still doesn't get us anywhere close to nailing the people behind this!"

Ben got to his feet. "I told you before that I don't care about that!"

"You're not running this case!"

"Well maybe I damn well should be!"

For a moment there was silence, both men glaring at each other across the desk. Jack looked away first. "Look, don't take this the wrong way, but have you considered having some kind of therapy?"

"You think I'm crazy?" Ben laughed mirthlessly.

"No, I think you're expending all of your energy on worrying about Evelyn and not thinking about yourself. You've had a hell of a year too, you know."

"It's nothing in comparison to what she's been through."

"Maybe not but, hell, I was offered counselling after coming off my bike! If the quacks think I might need it for that then they sure as hell might think you need it for seeing your pregnant fiancée gunned down in the street! Not to mention what happened with Ann Madsen..."

Anger flared inside Ben again, "You want to criticise me for Ann Madsen, go ahead. You think I don't punish myself enough about what happened to her? She's dead and I'm not going to let the same thing happen to Evelyn!"

"So you want them to walk? O'Reilly and whoever else might be involved in this? You don't want to see them punished?"

"Not if it means putting Evelyn in danger, mentally or physically. Next time you're in bed with Claire you take a good look at her and ask yourself what you would do in my situation." He left the office before Jack could say anything further and found himself at the nearest payphone, pushing money into the slot and punching in the number.

"Good afternoon, First Steps, Angela speaking, how may I direct your call?"

"Harry Dunn please."

"May I ask who's calling?"

"Ben Stone."

"One moment."

The line clicked and Vivaldi's Four Seasons started playing. It was slightly too loud in his opinion, but then it was hardly a cause for complaint. He waited, anxiously tapping his foot against the side, until the music abruptly stopped.

"Hello Ben, nice to hear from you."

"Thanks for taking my call," Ben said then paused, unsure exactly how to frame his question. "I guess I'm calling to find out how Evelyn is."

"She's doing well," Harry replied smoothly. "She was a little distressed on the first night, which is completely natural and expected, but she's more settled now. She's been experiencing some alcohol withdrawal but we've been managing that and we've started her on one-to-one therapy and, so far, it appears to be going well."

"That's...uh...that's good to hear."

"I know it's tough, especially at this stage, but this is going to help in the long term."

"I know," Ben sighed, "I guess I just wish that there was something more I could do for her than just call every so often to find out how she is."

"There's nothing else that you need to do," Harry reassured him. "Trust us...she's in good hands."

He hung up the phone, pondering Harry's last words.

 _Good hands...she should be in_ my _hands,_ my _home,_ my _bed._

_I'm not going to let you down again._

_I promise._

**One week later**

"Mr Stone, can you describe for us the events of the 11th of November last year?"

Ben took a breath and shifted slightly in his chair. "Ms Nicholls and I had been in Connecticut to watch my son play baseball. We had stayed over on the Friday night, the 10th, watched the game on Saturday the 11th and were due to drive back to the city that evening."

"And did you do that?"

"Yes."

"Do you recall what time you left Hartford?" Jack asked.

"It would have been around seven-thirty."

"And how long was the journey?"

"A little over two hours."

"When you got back to the city, where did you go?"

"I drove to Ms Nicholls apartment and parked up on the street about a hundred yards from her building."

"Then what happened?"

"We got out of the car and started walking along the street to the front door. A man stepped out from between two parked cars and stood in front of us. We tried to walk around him but he blocked our path. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun."

"What did you do then?"

"I made to take out my wallet, I thought he was intending to mug us, but before I could do so I was hit from behind and I fell to the ground."

"Did you see the person that hit you?"

"No."

Jack nodded, "Please go on."

Ben took another breath. "I was disoriented and my head hurt. I heard..." he cleared his throat. "I heard Ms Nicholls scream...uh...'not my baby, please not my baby,' and then I heard a gunshot. When I was able to get to my feet, the perpetrators were gone and...uh...Ms Nicholls was on the ground."

"Had she been shot?"

"Yes."

"Were you both taken to hospital?"

"Yes."

"And what treatment did you receive?"

"The doctors did a brain scan which they advised me showed nothing abnormal so I was given painkillers and discharged."

"And Ms Nicholls?"

"She had to have surgery to remove the bullet from her abdomen."

"And am I right in saying that as a result, she miscarried your baby?"

Ben looked straight at Jack, not trusting himself to remain composed otherwise. "Yes."

"Did you attend a police line up last month in relation to this case?"

"Yes I did."

"And did you positively identify a man named Antonio Lucci as being the man who pointed a gun at you and shot Ms Nicholls?"

"Yes, I did."

"Thank you," Jack nodded. "You can be excused now."

It had been such an odd experience from start to finish. From arriving at the courthouse and being made to sit and wait like any other witness, to being questioned in front of the Grand Jury members rather than be the one doing the questioning, to having to wait for a result without being privvy to it just like everybody else. Jack had shook his hand afterwards and thanked him for his testimony, but there had been no further discussion between them regarding Evelyn or what might happen in the event of a trial. Reliving that night, even briefly, had sent a shudder through him. God only knew what it was like for her, reliving so much so often.

_My baby...please not my baby...!_

He heard the bell ring and watched as Jack and Claire went back inside. Ten minutes later they emerged and Claire came over towards him.

"Grand Jury returned indictments on both defendants. Attempted murder in the second degree for Evelyn, assault in the first degree for you." He nodded. "I know you don't want Evelyn to testify. Jack told me and I get it, I really do."

"Do you?" he asked softly.

"I was there, remember? There was nothing more than we could have done for Ann Madsen..."

"Except not force her to testify."

"You can't spend the rest of your life feeling guilty about it."

"Maybe not, but I can damn well make sure I'm not responsible for it happening to someone else. Even if she was well...I wouldn't want Evelyn to go through this. The fact that she isn't means there's no way that she possibly can. You can make Jack understand that, can't you?"

"What about you?" Claire asked. "You'll still have to testify at trial even if Evelyn doesn't. If you're so worried something might happen to her, shouldn't you also be worried about something happening to you?"

Ben paused and shook his head, "I don't care about me."

"Ben..."

"Claire, she's sick, ok? She's been through enough and I don't want her anywhere near a witness stand ever again. The case you have is against Lucci and Scarpetta only. With my testimony and what you're going to get from Ralph McQueen you don't _need_ Evelyn. If Jack wants to try to go further up the foodchain and take the head of the beast then he's going to have to do it without her help and besides, it's rarely worth it. Believe me, I've been there."

Claire sighed and put her hand on his arm, "Ok, I'll talk to him."

"Thank you."

"Give Evelyn my best wishes when you talk to her, will you?" she turned to go. "I miss her."

"You and me both," he replied, watching as she hurried over to join Jack and noticing how he touched the small of her back. "You and me both."


	20. Chapter 20

**Four days later**

It had been a long time since he had played any proper tennis, well over a year in fact. When Paul had announced, somewhat tentatively in his office after they had just lost a rape case, that he was leaving the DA's office, Ben knew that his own reaction had put paid to the easy socialising that they had done together. Two or three mornings a week, depending on workload, they would play a quick set or two at the Midtown Tennis Club before heading into the office. That had stopped pretty much overnight and though Paul had trailed the suggestion that they take it up again once the initial shock of his news had worn off, Ben found he had always been able to come up with an excuse and, eventually, Paul stopped suggesting it.

So being back on the court with his old buddy felt, paradoxically, both new and familiar. He played poorly for the first few shots, missing balls that, a year ago, he would have played without a second glance, but as the game progressed he found the old rhythm that he had once had and easily took the first set 6-3.

"Have you been practicing in secret or something?" Paul asked as they broke off to take some water and change ends. "I have to admit, I figured I'd beat you hands down."

Ben laughed and wiped his brow with his towel. "No practicing, I assure you. Didn't you take those first two games like a pro?"

"I guess. Deana and I usually play a couple of times a week after work."

"Deana, huh?" Ben grinned at him. "How long has it been now?"

"Eight months."

"So...uh...when are you thinking about making an honest woman of her?"

"Come on Ben, you know me."

"I do. I know you're pretty settled at Blackman & Schwartz now, what is it senior associate? Not to mention the fact that you're not getting any younger."

"Thanks a lot! I'm only thirty-two!"

"Like I said, you're not getting any younger."

"Very funny. Come on, let me try and get a set back from you."

They played on, harder and faster, the sweat dripping off them as they levelled the set 6-6 and Ben, somehow, found the energy to push through and eventually win by two games. It felt good, not just winning and beating an opponent almost twenty years his junior, but pushing his body to its absolute limit. Though he felt utterly exhausted and unsure if he would actually make it off the court without collapsing, he realised that his mind had been so focused on what was happening with each second of play that he hadn't thought about Evelyn once the entire time.

As they collected up their bags and racquets and headed to the changing room, he felt a momentary sense of guilt, as though spending any time without her in the forefront of his mind was some kind of betrayal.

 _It's allowed. You_ can _think about other things besides her. You need to have a life too._

The shower was lukewarm and refreshing and as they settled themselves in the cafe for refreshments afterwards, Ben felt glad that he had reached out to Paul. They had always been good friends, even if they hadn't always agreed.

"So..." Paul said as the waitress brought them iced tea and Caesar salads. "Columbia."

"Columbia."

"Are you looking forward to it?"

"Yes and no," Ben replied honestly, sipping his tea. "It'll be a challenge, that's for sure, and it's way out of my comfort zone..."

"I don't agree. You're used to standing up in front of people and trying to persuade them to accept your line of reasoning. Why should teaching be any different?"

"I don't know. I guess it's just nerves about starting over with something new. I was at the DA's office a long time."

"Don't I know it," Paul laughed. "I remember when I first got assigned to you and everyone told me that you'd eat me for breakfast."

Ben laughed too, "I suppose I had a bit of a reputation back then."

"No 'suppose' about it. But you mellowed over time...a little." Paul speared some chicken with his fork. "I think it's a great move for you."

"You don't think I'm running away?"

"Do you?"

Ben paused. He had thought about his career change in so many different ways since the day he had dropped his letter of resignation on Adam's desk. Was he running away, or had what happened to Ann Madsen just been the push he had needed to move on and stop himself going stale? "Depends on the day."

"I get that," Paul nodded. "I agonised over _my_ decision, but at the end of the day I thought, and still think, that it was the right one, no matter how much I know it pissed you off."

"The salary must help with that," Ben quipped.

"Oh it does, especially if I'm thinking about marriage." Paul drained his glass and signalled to the waitress for a refill. "Are the kids enjoying summer camp?"

Ben nodded. Peter and Pamela had returned from Florida lightly tanned and full of tales of what they had gotten up to with their mother and grandparents, most of it revolving around the beach and swimming. When he had pulled up outside Laura's house they had both come tumbling out of the front door to greet him and he could still smell the salt as he had tightly embraced them. The following morning, the same day he had testified before the Grand Jury, they had both started two week long summer camps, Pamela in art and Peter in baseball and, almost at the end of the first week, they both came home every evening with tales of what they had done and the friends they had made. It gratified him to see them so happy.

Neither of them had mentioned Evelyn, but then neither had he.

"They're both loving it," he told Paul. "I think they're both wishing it would last longer than two weeks."

"You're taking them to Detroit though, right?"

"Yeah, next weekend to see my mother. I'm not sure a week there is going to compare to a week in Florida though."

"Well, some kids don't get any vacations, so they're lucky," Paul shrugged.

"True."

They had finished their food and were gathering up their things before Paul broached the subject. "I wanted to ask, but I wasn't sure if you wanted to talk about her. Evelyn, that is."

"I call every few days," Ben replied. "They always seem to tell me the same things, she's doing well and it's in her best interests to be there. I get to talk to her myself this time next week so..." he trailed off, thinking about the conversation to come. Sometimes he wished the days would go faster, other times he wished time would just stand still.

"It's encouraging though, right?" Paul said as they made their way down the stairs. "I mean, if she wasn't doing well then they wouldn't lie to you about it."

"I'd hope not."

"They wouldn't."

"I'm glad you're so sure."

Paul pushed open the main door and they both stepped out into the heat of the afternoon sunshine. "You're not."

Ben shrugged, "I don't know. I don't know what to think anymore. I'm trying to hold onto the fact that I did the right thing in bringing her back and getting her help. If I'd left her in London...God knows where she'd be now. I just feel so helpless knowing she's up there and I'm down here."

"I can understand that. I don't really know Evelyn but I know you and I know that you've always been a pretty good judge of character. Do you think that she can find her way through all this?"

He smiled slightly, picturing her in his mind's eye happy and well. "Yes," he replied. "I do."

"Then that's what you need to keep thinking about. Listen, Deana and I were going to take her nephews on a boat ride out to the Statue of Liberty on Sunday. All their lives they've lived in and around New York and they've never been. Why don't you join us and bring Peter and Pamela? Weather's meant to be great and I'd like you to meet her."

Ben started to decline then stopped himself. "Sure, why not? Sounds like a great idea."

"Great," Paul checked his watch. "I'll give you a call tomorrow night just to firm up the arrangements. I'd better go, I've got a client coming in at three and he's all I need before the weekend."

"Thanks Paul," Ben shook his hand. "I really mean that."

"No problem," the other man grinned and then disappeared off into the crowd.

XXXX

"How old are her nephews?" Pamela asked when he broached the subject with them that evening.

"I'm not sure exactly," he replied, taking the ice cream out of the freezer and leaving it on the counter to soften. "About your age I think."

"Both boys?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Do they like baseball?" Peter asked.

"I've no idea, but I'm pretty sure you can ask them on the boat ride over. So..." he came back out of the kitchen and over to the couch. "What are we watching?"

" _A League of Their Own,_ " Pamela replied, holding up the video she had rented from the store on the way home from school. Peter groaned. "What? It's about baseball!"

" _Girls_ baseball," he rolled his eyes. "It's hardly the same thing."

"Why not?"

"Because it isn't. Girls can't play as well as boys. It's a biological fact."

Pamela stared at her brother for a long moment, then swung around to face him, "Dad..."

"Tough luck Peter, it was Pam's turn to choose. Besides, I think it was very thoughtful of her to pick a baseball movie, even if it about girls, when she could technically have picked anything she wanted." Pamela grinned triumphantly. "Let's run the first ten minutes or so and then I'll get the ice cream."

Huffing slightly, Peter made himself comfortable in the corner of the couch, Ben took the opposite side and Pamela scrunched herself up in the easy chair. As the movie opened, he found himself looking at the three of them sat together, watching movies on a Friday night, as though he were an outsider looking in. They were comfortable together, the three of them. Living together had its ups and downs but most of the time it just worked. A year ago it would have seemed unthinkable that he could be so close to them.

_She helped you with that. She helped you see what a good father you could be. You owe her for that._

Fifteen minutes in, he went into the kitchen and dished up bowls of chocolate ice cream for the three of them, topped with sprinkles and chocolate flakes. As he carried them through and settled himself back on the couch, he allowed himself a wry smile, thinking that he wouldn't feel quite so comfortable eating it had he not played tennis that morning.

The film ended with Pamela, predictably, in tears despite the fact that it was poignant rather than sad and as Madonna's dulcet tones flowed over the end credits, Ben lifted the dishes and carried them back through to the kitchen, the kids trailing in his wake, their faces white and tired from their own days exertions.

"You pair look exhausted," he said. "Off you go to bed, I'll clear up." Peter yawned, nodded and turned towards his room but Pamela hovered, twisting her fingers nervously. "Everything ok, honey?"

"Can I talk to you?" she asked.

"Of course," he leaned back against the counter. "What is it?"

She looked at the floor for a long moment before speaking, "Is Evelyn ok?"

It wasn't the question he had been expecting and yet he didn't feel altogether surprised that she had asked it. "She's fine as far as I know."

"As far as you know?" Pamela met his gaze. "But I thought you brought her back from London?"

"I did and I took her to the treatment centre upstate, but I'm not allowed to talk to her until next week so I can only go by what the staff tell me when I call."

"And what do they say?"

"That she's doing well." He thought back to the last phone call the previous day when Harry told him that the physical alcohol withdrawal symptoms had subsided and that she had started to really open up in therapy. He had made it sound so positive but, just as he had alluded to Paul, he wasn't sure if they would tell him otherwise.

"When can you talk to her?"

"Next Friday."

Pamela paused, "Can _I_ talk to her?"

"No, not yet," he replied. "I think it might be better for you to wait until she comes home."

"But I want to say sorry."

"Sorry?" he frowned. "Sorry for what?"

"For calling her those times. I upset her, I know I did and it made her sick and...and I want to say sorry."

"Oh Pam..." he stepped forward and hugged her tightly to him, hating seeing the distressed look on her face. "You calling her did _not_ make her sick. She was already sick at that point. You have _nothing_ to say sorry for and I don't think for one minute that Evelyn would expect you to." She said nothing and he drew back, forcing her to look at him. "Listen to me. I don't want you thinking that you played _any_ part in what happened to her, ok? It is _not_ your fault. It's not anybody's fault."

 _Liar. You know it's Edward's fault, not to mention those two bastards on the street that night._ _And whoever was behind it._

"Are you sure she won't hate me?" Pamela asked.

"I can guarantee that she won't hate you," he kissed the top of her head. "Now, I don't want you thinking anymore about it, ok? Evelyn's going to be fine and when she comes home, everything is going to be better."

"You said before that you didn't think she would ever come home to us."

He paused, aware that he hadn't even sorted out the future possibilities in his own mind. How could he explain them to a thirteen year old?

"Well, that was before anyone knew how sick she was," he replied. "I don't know what's going to happen when she comes home but I _do_ know that she is going to want to be close to you and Peter again. She loves both of you."

"Maybe we could do something all together for my birthday next month?" she asked hopefully.

"She won't be home by then Pam, but I'm sure we could all do something later on once she is. Maybe you could think about some things you might like to do." She nodded. "Off you go to bed then. I'll see you in the morning."

She gave him another hug, "I love you Dad."

"I love you too." He squeezed her tightly and then let her go, watching as she walked across the room towards her bedroom, thinking how much she had grown up in the last year and wondering how much of it he should have prevented.

**Two days later**

Paul's girlfriend, Deana, was as lovely as Ben could have imagined she was. Twenty-eight years old, originally from Brooklyn and now living in Manhattan, she was a science teacher at a midtown high school, coming late to the job after a failed bid at becoming a professional tennis player. She and Paul had met at the tennis club and Ben could tell the younger man was smitten. It was obvious in the way that he looked at her, the way his hand brushed against hers, the way he touched the small of her back to guide her onto the boat. It was both heart-warming to see and also slightly painful.

Her nephews, Tristan and Tyler, were fifteen and eleven, both well spoken and polite, both heavily into basketball rather than baseball, much to Peter's chagrin, and both extremely excited about the planned trip. If anything, Pamela appeared to connect with them more than her brother did and though Peter contributed to the conversation, he spent a fair portion of the time gazing out across the river and saying little.

"Paul's told me so much about you," Deana said as the boat began making its way out of the pier towards their destination. "He says you were the best boss he ever had."

"Flattery will get Mr Robinette everywhere," Ben replied, smiling at Paul's obvious embarrassment. "Not that there's anywhere I can take him now."

"Well, not everyone speaks so highly about their former bosses," Deana said. "I know I don't. Paul says he learned a lot from you."

It was Ben's turn to feel embarrassed, "Well, it's nice to hear that he thinks that way. I like to think I learned a lot from him too." He watched her smile at Paul the way a person does when someone else compliments the person that they love and he felt his heart ache.

Once on Ellis Island, they were greeted by a tour guide who immediately started rattling off historical facts and figures, his manner such that he seemed to captivate the imagination and attention of everyone there and even Ben, who had visited several times before, found himself learning things he hadn't know and dredging up facts he had barely remembered from the recesses of his brain.

Pamela, Tristan and Tyler made an endearing threesome, huddling close together, exchanging whispers and laughs, but Peter held back more, staying by his father side which, although Ben didn't mind, concerned him slightly.

"Everything ok?" he took the opportunity to ask when there was a break in the information and they were moving to another spot.

"Yes," Peter replied.

Mindful of what Pamela had said a few nights earlier and feeling concerned that perhaps not mentioning her was doing more harm than good, he put his arm around Peter's shoulder and deliberately slowed his gait to allow the others to go ahead. "You know, if you want to talk about Evelyn or ask me anything about her, you can."

He felt his son stiffen slightly and then relax. "I didn't think you'd want to talk about her. You haven't mentioned her once since we came back from Florida and Mom said we shouldn't ask."

"Well..." Ben sighed, "I guess I thought that _you_ didn't want to talk about her. You've made your feelings pretty clear about her since she left."

"Did you tell her that you loved her? When you saw her in London, I mean?"

"Yes."

"And did she tell you that she loved you?"

"Not in so many words," he replied honestly. "But she was pretty unwell when I saw her."

"She didn't tell you to get lost though, right?"

"No, she didn't."

They walked a little further together.

"I shouldn't have called her a selfish bitch, should I?"

Ben let out a long sigh and squeezed his shoulder, "No, you probably shouldn't have and I should have picked you up on it at the time. But I know that you were hurt and angry and that you were just saying how you felt in that moment."

"But I guess I hurt her too by saying it. Like, _really_ hurt her. And then I acted like an asshole when she sent me the card for my birthday."

Ben smiled gently, feeling both impressed by Peter's maturity and also saddened that, like his sister, he had clearly been carrying a burden too great for him. "You know what, Evelyn's problems have been caused by things far greater than you calling her a selfish bitch or being an asshole over a birthday card. You're not to blame for any of it."

"When she comes back, maybe we could all do something together," Peter looked up at him. "Like go to watch the Mets? Maybe I could take her along with my season tickets."

They had caught up with the others by that point and Ben took the opportunity to kiss him briefly on the forehead before anyone really had the chance to see. "I'm sure she'd love that." Peter grinned and hurried forward to join Pamela and the boys, his previous reticence seemingly gone, his whole body looking more relaxed, as though he felt a weight had been lifted.

"Deana wants kids," Paul remarked, watching as she huddled in with the younger ones, looking at something Tristan was pointing to in the distance and laughing. "It's a dealbreaker for her."

"What about you?"

"Sure, I want kids. I guess I'm just not convinced I'd be any good at being a father."

"Oh trust me," Ben said, watching his own offspring laughing together. "You'll _never_ be convinced that you're any good at it but I can honestly say, perhaps now more than ever, that being a father really is the best job in the world."


	21. Chapter 21

**One week later**

"Jack wants me to take another statement from you."

Ben bit the side of his tongue before answering. "I'm not sure there's much more I can add to the statements I gave previously or my testimony before the Grand Jury."

"I know, but he still wants me to do it." Claire paused. "I could meet you some time later today?"

"No, that won't work," Ben replied, glancing at the clock. "I've got an important phone call later and the kids and I are heading to Michigan tomorrow to visit my mother so there's lots to do today..."

"I could come by your place this evening then."

"You're awful keen to push this, Claire."

"Well, look at this way. The more we get from you and Ralph McQueen, the less likely it is that we'll need Evelyn at trial." She paused again. "I talked to Jack. This was his idea."

"Ok," Ben agreed. "When you put it like that, we share the same objective."

"What time would suit?"

"Uh...seven-thirty?"

"Perfect, I'll see you then."

He replaced the receiver slowly and stood for a moment in the silence of the apartment. Claire had obviously relayed what he had said at the courthouse to Jack and if they _were_ trying to find a way to rationalise not using Evelyn as a witness, then it was all he could do to try to help them, even if he really _didn't_ think there was much he could add. What more really was there to say?

He moved around the living room, moving things from one place to another, wiping imaginary dust off of the furniture and straightening the pictures on the wall that were somehow out of sync.

_Go out. Do something. You've got four hours to kill._

Four hours. Four hours until he would get to speak to her. His stomach was in knots. He had spoken to Harry a few days earlier who had confirmed that he could talk to Evelyn that coming Friday but that there were a couple of stipulations he had to make. The first was that Evelyn had to make the call, the reason being that if she felt she couldn't speak to him then she didn't have the stress of knowing that he was waiting for her to answer. The second was that she could call anytime between two and two-thirty but, if he hadn't heard from her by two-thirty, then she clearly hadn't felt able to call and he would need to wait at least another week.

He had made all the right noises when Harry had told him this, agreeing that of course it was for the best, but part of him couldn't help but think that it was all so regimented just for a simple phone call.

_You have to go along with it. There's no other way._

He wandered into his bedroom and checked over the contents of his suitcase, mentally confirming to himself that he had everything that he would need. Peter had packed his things the previous evening, all except the last minute essentials, but Pamela's case was still empty, clothes dumped on top of it as though she hadn't quite figured out what to take yet. Their flight was at ten the following morning so he knew he'd have to chide her along that evening. They were both pretty excited about going, not just about seeing their grandmother again but about visiting places that they had heard him talk about. Pamela was desperate for a trip to the Detroit Institute of Art and Peter had subtly trailed that he wouldn't say no to going to a Tigers game.

He paused, thinking back on what he had said to Paul the previous weekend about fatherhood being the best job in the world. It was funny how so much could change in so little time. A year ago, weeks had gone by without him seeing them or knowing what they were doing. Now, the thought of going back to that type of arrangement elicited nothing but a _hell no_ from deep inside.

At lunchtime, he took a wander down to the local deli and bought a bagel, salad and soup for lunch and picked up some light pastries, in case Claire wanted one when she dropped by that evening. He smiled, thinking about what Peter's reaction would be and wondered if he should tell him in advance or let him open the door to her. Telling him in advance would be kinder, but having him open the door to her would be more humorous, at least for him.

At two o'clock, he found himself pacing the living room, his eyes darting to and from the phone, waiting for it to ring. When it didn't, he sat down on the couch and tried to read the day's paper only to find himself going over and over the same lines of text. He switched on the television to catch the news only to find himself immediately putting it off again lest the noise hampered his hearing of the phone.

By two-twenty he was starting to give up hope.

_Maybe she's just not ready. Maybe she just needs more time..._

At two twenty-three, the phone rang and he found himself frozen, just staring at it. What if it was a sales call? What if it was a wrong number? What if it was his mother?

_What if it's her?_

_Answer, damn it!_

He took a breath and lifted the receiver, his heart pounding so fiercely in his chest that it felt as though his whole body was reverberating, "Hello?"

"Ben?"

He felt a shudder of relief go through him at the sound of her voice and he sat down heavily on the edge of the couch, his legs almost unable to bear his weight any longer. "It's you."

"It's me."

"It's so good to hear your voice," he let out a long breath. "How are you?"

"I'm good," she replied. "How are you?"

 _How am I? God, what a question. I'm talking to you. I'm talking to_ you!

"I'm great," he said with a slight laugh. "Now that I'm talking to you, that is. These last few hours have been, I don't know, some kind of torture."

"I've missed the sound of your voice."

"I've missed _you_." He closed his eyes, imagining her at the other end of the phone, what she was wearing, how she was sitting, whether her free hand was still or nervously touching her hair...an inappropriate feeling of need suddenly coursed though him, and he felt his groin twitch.

"I've missed you too," she said softly. "Three weeks is a hell of a long time when they tell you that you can't call. There's been so many times that I've wished I could just pick up the phone and talk to you."

"You sound...different."

"Different in a good way, I hope."

"You sound, I don't know, somehow lighter? Happier?" He wasn't sure if either of the words was appropriate but they were the only ones that seemed to fit. Gone was the terrible despair that he had heard and felt when he had seen her in London and brought her home, when she had both clung to him and retreated from him. She sounded more like her old self now, if she had ever truly been that. "I'm sorry, I'm not really sure how to describe it and I don't want to say you sound 'better' because...well..."

"I'm getting better, Ben. I'm not all the way there yet, and I'm not naive enough to think that I'm going to have solved all my problems in eight weeks, but the person you brought here...I'm not her anymore."

"I'm glad. I was so worried about you, sweetheart. You just looked so...so broken."

_There's no other word for it. That's what she was._

_You can help fix her. You know you can._

"I know and I'm so sorry that you had to go through that. I'm so sorry that I _made_ you go through that."

"No you didn't. It wasn't your fault..."

"Maybe not, but I need to say sorry. I need to say a long of things, some of which I'm not quite ready to say yet, but I _can_ say sorry for what you had to deal with in London. I was a mess and perhaps a part of me still is..." she paused. "But the therapy here has been good in allowing me to understand not only why I made some of the choices that I did, but the consequences of those choices, both for myself and others." She paused and laughed. "Does that make me sound preachy?"

"No, of course not," he replied hurriedly. "I just don't want you to feel that you _have_ to apologise to me, that's all."

"Maybe I _don't_ have to, but I want to. I was so lonely in London. I thought that when I got there and settled in and started working and making friends that it would all fall into place, that everything would make sense there that hadn't here and, when it didn't...I guess I didn't know how to deal with that. I know now that I should have asked for help, maybe even have reached out to you on some level."

"I know that you called," he offered. "You didn't say anything but I knew it was you."

There was a silence at the other end of the phone before she spoke again, her voice shaking slightly when she did. "I didn't know that. I thought you might think it was just a wrong number. Just hearing you answer...I suppose I was trying to work up the courage to actually talk to you but I couldn't do it, not until I'd had a drink at least."

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the memory of that particular call. "How are things going with that?"

"I'm sober. I have been since I got here. The first week or so was pretty rough but I reckon I'm over the worst of it now. They have AA meetings here in addition to the individual and group therapy, so I've been going as often as I can. I know three weeks isn't any time at all in the grand scheme of things, but I'm hopeful."

"That's good."

"I'm sorry that you had to see me drinking and I'm so sorry that you had to find out that I was sleeping with other men..." she paused. "I'm sorry that I did all those things. I was searching for something...and I couldn't find it. I didn't enjoy any of it. I want you to know that. It was never...fun."

He felt a lump rise in his throat, "I do know that."

"It was never a question of trying to find someone to replace you. It was never as...meaningful...as that. I know that part of you probably doesn't want to hear that but it's important that I say it."

"I know that too," he said, thinking back to what Alex had told him. "I've never thought badly of you for it, Evelyn, never. But, if you need me to say it then I'll say it. I forgive you."

"Thank you, that means a lot. I know it's not everything, not yet, but it's a start, right?"

"Sweetheart, you have nothing to prove to me. The only person that you need to do all of this for is you. I love you regardless of what you've done or what you think you've done...nothing you could ever say or do could ever change how I feel about you. The thought of another five weeks without you..."

She cleared her throat. "I was hoping that you might be able to do me a favour, not that you haven't done plenty already."

"Name it," he said automatically.

"I was hoping that you might be able to find me an apartment. I know that it's unlikely my old place will be available, but I actually can't bear the thought of going back to stay with my mother right now. My relationship with her is...all wrapped up in this mess and I know that being with her on a full time basis would be disastrous for both of us. I don't even think she knows that I'm here yet. I thought maybe you could call your realtor friend for me and see what's on the market? I'm only allowed to call certain people and the thought of leaving with no place to go..."

Her words trailed off and over his head.

_You want me to find you an apartment?_

_You don't need an apartment._

_You're coming home with me._

"Evelyn, I..."

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I know it's a lot to ask and I'm sure that you have lots of other things to take care of right now..."

"It's not that. Of course I can find you an apartment..."

"Thank you."

"...it's just that..."

"What?"

He paused, "I suppose I assumed that once you were finished with treatment you would just come back here to live with me. With us. Me and the kids. I assumed that you and I..."

_I was going to pick you up and I was going to take you somewhere and I was going to make love to you until we were both spent and then I was going to bring you home and we were going to live happily ever after..._

"I've missed you in every way imaginable for a man to miss a woman. I think about you every day and every night. I want..." he broke off, suddenly reminding himself that it wasn't about what he wanted right now. She was the one battling demons. She was the one who had to set the pace for their relationship going forwards. If she wanted to take things slowly, then he would do that too.

_You have to. You can't lose her again._

It was her turn to pause, though he could still hear her breathing, and he felt his heart start to quicken again with the anxiety of waiting for her to respond. After what seemed like an eternity, she spoke.

"I need friends, Ben."

"Friends," he echoed dumbly.

"I don't have many, and the few I do have I've most likely alienated somehow. If I'm going to get fully better then I need to work on those relationships. I've learned that everyone needs a strong support network around them and..." she paused again. "You're the best friend that I have...probably the best friend I've ever had."

_Friend._

_No._

"That's...that's uh..."

"An emotional, sexual relationship right now...I...I don't..."

"No no, I understand," he said quickly, keen for her not to finish her thought, desperate for her not to come right out and say it. "No, you're right. It's...uh...it's important that you do what you feel you need to right now."

"I'm sorry..."

_We've been here before. Professional not personal. Only this time there's no professional element and, Jesus, how much more personal can two people get?_

"You don't have to be sorry," he said, attempting to sound cheerful. "I'm very happy that you're doing better and I want to do whatever I can to help you with that so, if you need me to find you an apartment, then that's what I'll do...and if you need to just be friends right now...that's fine too."

"Thank you," she said again, sounding relieved. "Having you in my life Ben...it makes me feel, I don't know, safe."

"I'm...uh...I'm glad."

"I think a part of me always knew that you'd come for me. I guess that's why I...I mean..."

"It's ok," he lied. "Really, it is."

There was an elongated silence.

"I'd better go," she said finally. "I've got a session at three."

"Sure," he said. "Uh...the kids and I are going to Michigan tomorrow for a week to see my mother."

"That sounds great." She hesitated slightly. "How are the kids?"

"They're good. They send you their best."

"That's kind. I know I have some bridges to build there too. Tell them I said hello and to have a great time."

"I will. I'll...uh...call when we get back and arrange with Harry for another time for us to talk...if you want to, that is."

"Of course I do. That sounds great," she said. "And thank you again for everything."

"No problem." He paused, wanting to tell her he loved her, but feeling it suddenly inappropriate. "I guess I'll say goodbye then."

"Bye Ben."

"Bye."

XXXX

"It's like she's pushing me away!"

"That's _not_ what she's doing."

"Isn't it?"

"No, it isn't." Elizabeth sat forward in her chair. "What she said to you was right. She _does_ need friends right now, people she can turn to, people she can lean on. Recovering from a near mental breakdown isn't an easy process and neither is dealing with all the things that led up to it. If you want my honest opinion, I think she's being very smart here."

Ben stopped pacing and looked at her. "By choosing not to be with me?"

"By choosing not to dive headfirst back into a relationship with you, yes."

"Oh great, thanks."

After he had put the phone down, he had felt what he could only describe as a terrible feeling of loss. As though everything he had been working towards, thinking about, hoping for had all been swept away with a few choice words on her part. He had tried to rationalise what she had said, tried to make sense of it, tried to see where she was coming from, but it didn't matter. He still felt the same.

_Rejected._

_Again._

"Ben...your relationship with Evelyn was intense right from the start. You didn't date like other couples might have. You didn't go for drinks and dinner and to the movies and gradually build things up. You both felt an attraction and you both physically acted upon it. Bang, before you know it she's pregnant and you're talking about moving in together and getting married. It was all way too fast, particularly for a woman like her who had suffered what she had with Edward. Add into that the trauma of her being attacked at the hotel, the shooting and the miscarriage..." she shook her head. "By the time she left for London you had been through more things in a few months than some couples go through in a lifetime together."

"But that's partly what I don't understand. _Yes_ we've been through a lot together. Surely that should make us closer than other couples who just 'dated?' Surely that should make what we had worth fighting for not...throwing away."

"She's not throwing it away," Elizabeth said. "She's just pulling the reins back a little. Like it or not, Ben, what I said to you all those months ago _was_ right. Evelyn needs to be able to stand on her own two feet and find her own coping mechanisms to deal with what she's been through. As a friend you can support her with that. As a lover it's all too easy to fall into the trap of propping the other person up."

"That isn't what I would do!" he exclaimed, frustrated.

"Yes it is. You just can't see it and that's ok. Like I said, she's not cutting you out of her life. She _wants_ you there. She _wants_ you to be friends and you know as well as I do that some of the greatest love affairs came about because two people were friends first."

He sighed, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head. "I don't want to be her friend, Liz."

"You mean you don't want to _just_ be her friend," she corrected him. "I get that, I do. But right now Ben that's all she can offer you. It's up to you whether or not you're willing to accept it."


	22. Chapter 22

"So, how do you feel having spoken to him?"

Evelyn looked down at her hands, clasped together in her lap, one leg crossed over the other, and pondered the question. How did she feel? How was it possible to feel? Was there a way that she _should_ feel?

"In one sense, I feel good," she replied. "I was able to apologise for some of the things that had happened and he accepted it. I don't believe he holds any resentment towards me for it. He said as much."

"But?"

She looked over at the kind, inquisitive face of Emma, her therapist. She was youngish, mid thirties perhaps, with a shock of short blonde hair that she wore spiked up at the back and large red rimmed glasses that made her eyes look huge. When they had first been introduced, she knew that she had inwardly scoffed. There was no way this woman could help her. Yet, three weeks on, she found that she had opened up to Emma in a way that she had never opened up to anyone. Not Liz. Not Ben.

"I know I hurt him by saying what I did about our relationship."

"You told him that you felt it was better to be on your own?"

"In so many words, yes. It wasn't what he was expecting and...I guess I can't blame him. I hurt him very badly when I left for London and yet he came all the way over there to help me when I needed him. I know he thought that we would just get back together and I feel as though I've, I don't know, stuck a knife in his heart or something."

"But you're not responsible for other people's emotions."

"I know that," she said, "but he loves me. He told me he loves me. He told me he loved me in London when I was at my lowest ebb and he told me he loved me when he brought me here and he told me he loved me on the phone just now and I basically just...pissed all over him."

"Think about what we talked about the other day," Emma said. "We said that in order for us to be able to love and care about others we need to love and care about ourselves, remember?" Evelyn nodded. "You're not saying to Ben that you don't love him because you know that you do. All you're saying is that you need to work on loving and caring about yourself before you can extend that to him in a fully functioning relationship."

"I get that, but it still feels...wrong somehow. As though I've let him down."

"Let's pretend that you were leaving here tomorrow and going back to the city to live with Ben. What do you think would be one of the first things that both you and he would want to do together?"

She knew the answer, but she played dumb for a few moments, almost embarrassed to say it. "Make love, I guess."

"So," Emma nodded. "Let's say that you were going to be faced with that tomorrow. How would you feel?"

"But how I feel today might not be how I feel tomorrow or next week or in five weeks time when I _do_ leave here."

"I understand that, but we can only work with how we feel _now_. So, how would you feel in the scenario I've just described?"

This time she wasn't sure of the answer and her silence was genuine. She turned it over in her mind, seeing them together in his apartment. She could imagine, as clear as if it were happening in front of her, his arms going around her, his mouth on her neck, her clothes falling to the floor, him on top of her, inside her...she shivered slightly and she wasn't sure why. "I would feel strange," she admitted finally. "I would feel as though I wasn't quite sure that I was doing the right thing." She paused again. "I don't think I'd feel ready."

Emma nodded again. "Giving yourself to someone intimately is one of the most sacred things a person can do, male or female. Asking a person to wait for that doesn't mean that you don't love them. What about all the couples who don't sleep together before they get married?"

"Yes but they're in relationships with each other. They're still intimate in a sense without going all the way. I feel as though I've relegated Ben to the friend zone."

"Aren't friendships intimate? You're trusting a person with your confidences, asking them to accept you, wanting them to be a part of your life, to be there for you as you intend being there for them. What could be more intimate other than the ultimate act which no-one should engage in until they're truly ready?" Emma paused. "If you can be honest with yourself, you know that a lot of the issues you're dealing with have their roots in sexual intimacy. All the things that happened with Edward, all the things that happened in London..."

Evelyn nodded slowly. "I know that you're right but, when I was with Ben...it was the best that it had ever been...the best that I'd ever had." She blushed slightly. "I want it to be like that again."

"And there is every chance that it will be. But you need to be in a place where _you_ want it to happen for all the right reasons, not because you think it should or because you think that you'll make him happy by doing it. If you trust each other as friends...if you can be intimate as friends then, over time, there's every chance that you'll find yourself in that place again. And a relationship isn't only about the physical. You need to be in the right place emotionally to take on all the ups and downs of what being with someone truly involves."

"And what if I don't?" she asked fearfully. "What if I never get to that place, emotionally or sexually? What if I can't love and care about myself enough to be with him...be with anyone?"

"I can't answer that for you," Emma said, "all I can do is help provide you with the tools for you to be able to work towards that goal as best you can. But it has to be for you, no-one else." Evelyn nodded. "Do you want to have another conversation with him?"

"Yes, of course. He's going to Michigan with his children on vacation for a week though, so I'm not sure when we'll get the chance." She felt a sudden emptiness, a sense of loss, as though having heard his voice once it would be almost painful not to hear it again.

"Then think about what you might talk about next time. You've already done the hardest part. You've explained your limitations and he's accepted them. Now you need to focus on where you go from here, building that friendship, that trust, that intimacy." Emma paused. "Didn't you mention that he had given you a diary?"

_The diary...my God, the diary..._

"Yes," she said softly. "Yes he did."

XXXX

Claire arrived promptly at seven-thirty that evening and Ben couldn't help but think that Peter was going to have some sort of coronary. He had elected to tell him and Pamela about her visit in advance rather than have it be a surprise so, after dinner, Peter had gone to take a shower, his second of the day and had spent a fair amount of time in the bathroom thereafter preening himself in front of the mirror, coming out only when Pamela had banged angrily on the door and told him that she needed to pee. He had sat at the table, nonchalantly flicking through the day's paper, pretending to read the news headlines, only to jump to his feet when the knock came at the door.

"Hi," Claire said by way of greeting. "I hope I'm not too early."

"No you're right on time," Ben said, stepping back so that she could step inside. "You remember my son Peter."

"Of course," Claire said, smiling warmly at him. "Hi Peter, how are you getting on?"

"Great," he replied enthusiastically. "You look nice."

"Thanks," she laughed, glancing down at her work suit. "I like your shirt."

Peter puffed his chest out slightly and Ben did his best to hide a smile. The shirt was new, bought for going to Michigan, the blue and red checks highlighting the deep colour of his eyes. He knew Peter thought it made him look more manly. "Thanks."

"This is my daughter Pamela," Ben said, gesturing over to where Pamela was gathering up her art supplies from the table. "She's our budding artist."

"Did you draw this?" Claire asked, pointing to the pencil skyline of the city that was hanging on the wall above the sideboard.

Pamela nodded, "It was my birthday present to Dad."

"It's very good."

"Do you think so?"

"Absolutely. Looks like you've got a natural talent."

Pamela blushed and then scampered off in the direction of her room. Peter hovered as Ben showed Claire to the couch, positioning himself on the edge of the armrest as she sat down. "Did you have anything interesting at court today, Claire?" he asked, clearly attempting to pull off an air of nonchalance.

"Actually yes," she replied. "We're mid trial at the moment with a really interesting murder case where the defendant is claiming that his twin brother actually committed the crime."

"What's so interesting about that?" Peter asked.

"He doesn't have a twin brother."

"Oh."

"Peter, would you mind giving us some privacy please?" Ben asked. Peter's face fell slightly and he opened his mouth as if to protest. "I might have phrased it as a request but it really wasn't one," he added and Peter reluctantly got to his feet.

"Don't go without saying goodbye," he said to Claire as he headed off in the direction of his room.

"I won't," she replied. His door closed and she smiled. "He's very sweet."

"He's sweet on _you_ ," Ben said. "Has been from the first moment he saw you in my office."

"Well, I'm flattered."

"I'm not so sure it's a good thing. He spent an hour getting ready for you coming this evening and I can't help but wonder if I should have said something to him." He had been poised to do it, ready to say to Peter that all his effort to impress was going to be wasted, but somehow he hadn't had the heart.

"And burst his teenage bubble?" She lifted out her notepad. "That's too cruel."

"Is it? Surely it's worse to let him get his heart broken?"

_Like mine._

"Ben..." she hesitated, "I hope you don't think I said anything improper to him just now?"

"No," he waved his hand dismissively. "No, it's not you, I'm sorry. I'm grateful you came by. Shall we get this over with?"

Over the next forty minutes he retold the tale of what happened outside Evelyn's building that night in minute detail, sparing nothing. He watched as she filled one yellow sheet and then another with his words, stopping only to ask him an occasional question or to clarify a point. It felt different recalling it this time. In the Grand Jury room he had felt as though he was reliving every moment, could feel the crack on the back of his head, could hear Evelyn screaming...now it felt as though he was simply retelling a story. Almost like it happened to someone else.

"That's really helpful," Claire said when he had finished. "I'll have it typed up and passed to Jack tomorrow to consider."

"How confident are you that he's going to agree not to use Evelyn at trial?"

She shrugged, "I really don't know. I laid it all out to him, the pros and cons, and I emphasised as much as I could about her mental health...you know Jack, he'll make up his own mind regardless of what anybody says."

"Reminds me of someone else I used to know," Ben said ruefully.

"I don't think you were quite as pig headed," she said generously.

"I'm not sure if that's a true compliment, but I'll pretend it is. Do you want some coffee?"

"Sure," she followed him through to the kitchen. "Are the kids looking forward to going to Michigan tomorrow?"

"Well it's not Florida but they can hardly complain," he said, taking two cups out of the cupboard. "They can't remember the last time they visited so they've made a list of what they really want to do. My mother's pretty sprightly for her age so she'll be up for most things." He opened the bag of pastries he had bought and offered her one, but she declined. "Claire, if you tell me that you're watching your weight..."

"Hardly," she laughed. "Sugar always makes me wired come bedtime."

"And coffee doesn't?"

"I think I've developed a tolerance for it. Thanks." She took a cup from him. "Have you heard from Evelyn?"

He paused before replying, wanting to keep things light. "I talked to her today actually."

"How is she?"

"She's good. Much better than when she was admitted. She says the therapy there is really helping her."

"That's great," Claire said warmly. "No doubt you can't wait for the next five weeks to be over so that she can come home."

_If only it were that simple..._

"Yeah," he said, sipping his coffee. "I can't wait. Ah, look who it is." Peter appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Was it the smell of pastries that lured you out?"

"Very funny Dad," Peter replied, his eyes darting to Claire. "You've finished then?" She nodded. "I was wondering, if you had time, whether or not you'd like to come out for ice cream with me before you go home."

Claire's jaw dropped slightly and Ben found himself both taken aback and somewhat impressed by his son's sheer brazenness. For a moment, there was silence in the kitchen and he could almost see the wheels turning in Claire's head as she thought of a gentle excuse.

_Please be kind...please be kind..._

"You know that would have been lovely but I still have a lot of work to do tonight. I haven't had a chance to get to any of it because I've been in court all day. But thank you for the offer."

Peter shrugged, "Sure, I understand. Maybe some other time?"

Ben held his breath.

"You are a _really_ nice guy, Peter," Claire said, "but I think I'm probably a little too old for you. There must be lots of girls in your school that you'd like to ask out for ice cream."

"Oh...yeah, of course," Peter replied carelessly. "I just wanted to, you know, ask you first."

"Well I'm flatted that you did." She drained her cup and placed it down on the counter. "If you're still interested in maybe becoming a lawyer and you want to come down to court one day I'd be happy to have you shadow us. I know Jack wouldn't mind."

"Jack..." Peter's eyes narrowed slightly. "Is Jack your boyfriend?"

Ben glanced at Claire and saw her tighten her lips in an attempt not to laugh, while her cheeks gently pinked. "Uh...he's my boss actually. But I'm sure he'd love to have you with us one day."

"Ok," Peter replied, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Thanks."

"No problem." She turned back to Ben. "Thanks for the coffee."

"You're welcome," he replied, walking her to the door. "I'm sorry," he lowered his voice.

"Don't be," she smiled. "He _is_ pretty cute for a high school kid. I reckon he'll be breaking hearts soon. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Ben closed the door over and turned back to where Peter had thrown himself down onto the couch, his expression glum. Walking over towards him, he felt a sudden rush of love for his son. "You know, Peter...it might feel like the end of the world right now but I promise you that it will get better."

Peter lifted his head, "I feel stupid now."

"Why? I thought you were very brave to ask her out like that. I couldn't have done that when I was your age. Hell, I don't think I could even do it now!"

" _Is_ Jack her boyfriend?"

"You heard what she said."

"Come on Dad, I'm sixteen!"

"Exactly," Ben sat down on the couch next to him. "You're sixteen and you have your whole life ahead of you. I guarantee that in a few months time you'll have forgotten all about Claire and you'll be fixated on someone new."

"Maybe," he muttered. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you going to be fixated on someone new soon?"

Ben paused at the sudden swerve in the conversation, "No...I have Evelyn."

"Do you?" Peter looked at him. "I thought you were supposed to be happy you got to talk to her today and instead you've looked miserable ever since we got home. Did she say something to you? Something you didn't want to hear?"

"You mean like you just heard from Claire?"

"Yeah."

It would be the easiest thing in the world to lie, to tell him that they had had a great conversation, that everything was fine, that it was all going to be normal again. But what was the point? Why lie now and then have to backtrack later? Evelyn had at least been honest with him. He knew he owed it to Peter to be honest too, not to mention that he would probably see through any half-truth. "She...uh...she told me that she thought it would be better if we were just friends rather than, well, anything else."

_Several hours later and it still hurts._

"You don't want to be friends."

He thought back to what Liz had said, "I don't want to _just_ be her friend."

"So, what did you say when she said that?"

"I told her that I was ok with it."

"But you're not."

_You're so perceptive my boy._

"No not really. But when you love someone, it means being prepared to compromise. Right now this is what she wants and I'm prepared to compromise on that. Maybe, in time, she'll be ready for what _I_ want."

Peter looked thoughtful. "When you and Mom split up, why couldn't you compromise then? I mean, you loved each other, so why couldn't you? You could have worked less or we could have all moved to Hartford, but you got divorced instead."

"You're right," Ben nodded. "I could have compromised. I _should_ have compromised and maybe if I had, things would have been ok and your mother and I would still be together but at that point, even though we probably couldn't have admitted it to ourselves, we had already fallen out of love with each other."

"How does that even happen?" Peter frowned. "How do you fall out of love with someone?"

_Gosh, this is a far deeper conversation than I was expecting..._

"Well...I suppose the same way that you fall _in_ love with someone. One day you realise that you care about that person more than you've ever cared about anyone and you can't imagine being without them and...you realise that you're in love with them. And when you fall _out_ of love...well I guess the reverse is true."

Peter looked at him, "Has Evelyn fallen out of love with you?"

_God I hope not._

"No," he said, with slightly more confidence than he felt. "She just needs some time on her own right now to get well again."

"Do you still want to get married?"

"Yes, one day. If that's what she wanted."

"But don't you think it's silly to wait around and hope that she decides she wants to be with you?"

"Maybe, but it's because I love her that I'm prepared to wait."

"How long though? How long are you prepared to wait?"

_How long._

_How long do I wait for you to decide whether or not you can be more than friends?_

_How long do I wait to hold you in my arms again?_

_A month? A year? Ten years?_

He reached over and ruffled Peter's hair, smiling ruefully, "As long as it takes."


	23. Chapter 23

"Right, out with it."

Ben looked up from where he was sat at his mother's kitchen table, attempting to repair one of her old clocks, to see her standing with her back against the stove, arms folded across her chest. "Out with what?"

"Whatever it is that's bugging you."

"There's nothing bugging me," he insisted, looking back down at the task in front of him. "It's been a long day, that's all."

From the moment they had landed at DTW that morning it had been all systems go. Mary had met them at the airport and they had driven the thirty miles to his childhood home in Grosse Pointe Woods, him pointing out various things of personal interest on the way. Nothing changed much it seemed, not even the house. Over the years his parents had made subtle improvements but the basic structure remained the same and when he stepped through the front door all his childhood memories, both good and bad, came flooding back.

He saw himself and Carol arguing over toys, family dinners around the table when his father could barely keep his eyes open from alcohol consumption, bringing his first teenage girlfriend, Sophie, over for a slightly awkward first meeting, lying on his back on the grass when his parents weren't home smoking illicit cigarettes, gathering around the tiny black and white television, packing up his room to go to college, handing around sandwiches and accepting sympathy after his father's funeral and so much more...

Peter and Pamela had scampered around, up and down the stairs and out into the backyard to explore before an argument had ensued over who got the attic room and who would take the spare room next to his own. In the end, Pamela had won the toss and once bags had been deposited and clothes had been changed, they had looked to him for their afternoon's entertainment. Fortunately, Mary had been one step ahead, announcing that the Detroit Kite Festival was taking place that day at Belle Isle Park and they had all spent a pleasant afternoon watching professional kite flyers and even making their own, which had excited Pamela rather more than Peter who had only cheered up at the news that they were going to the Tigers game the following afternoon.

Arriving back at the house, tired and slightly sunburnt, the next door neighbour, Mrs Sheehan, had popped in to say that they were hosting a barbecue for their family and would they like to join them. So the evening had been spent stuffing themselves with burgers, hot dogs and fries whilst sitting on the patio chatting. Peter and Pamela had struck up quite a rapport with Mrs Sheehan's granddaughters, Lily and Violet and, much to Ben's amusement, a slight blush had spread across Peter's cheeks when he had been talking with Violet.

By ten o'clock, bed had been calling and the kids had trekked upstairs with little disagreement leaving him and his mother downstairs drinking the spiced apple tea she had made that morning and talking generalities.

Until that moment.

"Ben, I'm your mother. We might not see each other very often but I know when something isn't right." Mary paused. "Is it Evelyn?"

He put the clock back down on the table and sat back in his chair. The mention of her name made his stomach turn over. He had tried so hard not to think about her since they had arrived, but the whole day he couldn't help but see her there with them, shielding her eyes from the sun, laughing with the kids.

_It's just so damn unfair for you to do this._

"I suppose," he said finally.

"You suppose?"

"She called yesterday..."

"Well that's good, isn't it?"

He nodded, "Yes, it was good to hear from her. She sounded a lot better than she did the last time I saw her."

"But?"

"She asked me to help find her an apartment for when she's finished with treatment."

"What's so wrong about that?"

He laughed bitterly. "Clearly I'm the only one who thinks there's something wrong with that. I wanted her to come home with me."

"Ah..." Mary sat back too. "I see. So she wants to take a step back?"

"A massive step back. She just wants to be friends, nothing more."

Mary said nothing for a long moment, the gentle whirring of the air conditioning being the only noise in the small kitchen that had, in all honesty, seen better days. "Well maybe that's not such a bad idea."

Ben looked over at her, "Are you about to tell me that she's been through so much and it's for her own good that she does this? If you are, don't bother, I've already heard it."

"No, I wasn't going to say that. I was going to say that I think this is a good thing for _you_." She nodded on his look of confusion. "A lot of things have changed for you over the last few months, Ben. You moved apartment, you have the kids full time, you're starting a new job...maybe now isn't the best time to be in a serious relationship."

_Are you insane?_

"You're not serious. I was on my own for ten years before I met Evelyn! Do you really think that, deep down, I was happy?"

"No, but..."

"I want her, in my heart, in my home, in my..." he broke off, suddenly remembering who he was talking to. "I want her."

"Why? Why do you want her?"

"What?"

"Why?" Mary held out her hands, palms upturned to the ceiling. "Why do you want her?"

_What a ridiculous question._

"Because I love her."

"Is that it, or is it really because you want to save her?"

He stared at her, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You have always been the same," she said kindly. "Ever since you were a little boy. You remember the squirrel that fell out of the tree out back?" He nodded. "It was pretty much injured beyond hope but you wanted to keep it and try to nurse it back to health. So you lined one of your old shoeboxes with paper and put it in there and kept watch over it day and night. I had to force you to go to sleep!"

"It died anyway," he recalled.

"Then there was that boy that joined your class in sixth grade, what was it, Danny...Billy...?"

"Jimmy. Jimmy Caspari."

"Right, and you befriended him and then he started getting picked on because of his name and you stood up for him and almost got your head bashed in for your trouble."

"Jimmy _did_ get his head bashed in. He spent a week in the hospital."

"And you had to go and visit him every day just to apologise for not being able to stop it from happening. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

"Not really," he replied stubbornly.

She leaned over and covered her hands with his. "All your life you have wanted to try and save other people that you thought needed help. Why do you think it is that you went into prosecution after you left law school? It certainly wasn't for the money. You could have gone to any firm you wanted, there were plenty offers. You could have done anything in the world but you wanted to do _that._ You wanted to try and get justice for people that you thought had been wronged."

"Even if that is marginally true," he conceded, "it's not the case here. I don't go for women that I feel I need to save. That makes me sound like some sort of, I don't know..."

"White knight?"

"Oh please," he scoffed, drawing back and picking up the clock again. "The only serious relationship I had before Evelyn was Laura and I certainly didn't need to save _her_ from anything."

"No? You'd seen her around a few times but you told me that you approached her that night on campus because she was being hassled by a couple of jocks."

"I was being nice!"

"You stopped her from going to those parties, didn't you? The ones where everyone was taking drugs?"

"That wasn't...I wasn't..." he fought for an answer. "It was the sixties, Mom and I did that because it was dangerous, not just for her but for everyone who went to those parties. Besides, I liked her before I knew about that!"

"Darling, I'm not saying that all those things are negatives, of course they're not. All I'm saying is that you are drawn to people and situations where you think you can make a positive difference. Evelyn is a prime example of that."

_Jesus Christ..._

"You're making me sound less like a white knight and more like a predator," he said angrily, getting to his feet. "You're making it sound as if I go after weak and vulnerable women!"

"That's not what I'm saying at all!"

"Isn't it? You're implying that I knew Evelyn was damaged when I met her and that the only reason I wanted to be with her was to try and make things better for her!"

"I'm not saying that was the _only_ reason..."

"You're being ridiculous!"

Mary sighed and got to her feet. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I'm just not getting across what I want to say very well. It's _your_ life at the end of the day, darling. I just want you to be happy." She stepped around the table and kissed him gently on the cheek. "Turn the lights off when you come up, will you?"

He watched as she disappeared out of the room, the floorboards on the stairs creaking slightly as she ascended. Then the house fell silent and he was alone, standing in the same place in the kitchen where he had stood all those years earlier when he told his father that, in actual fact, he was _not_ going to continue studying organic chemistry and he was _not_ going to become a doctor, regardless of what he wanted.

 _"You do whatever you want,"_ George Stone had said. _"It's your fucking life."_

He turned to the cupboard behind him, lifted out a glass and held it under the tap, waiting until the water was crisp and cool before sitting back down at the table and sipping it slowly.

_It's my fucking life and I want her in it._

_Why can't anybody understand that?_

He looked down at the clock on the table, its pale face looking back up at him almost mockingly, its hands frozen at ten minutes past three. The clock had sat for years on his father's desk and had never once stopped. His mother always said that after his father passed away she had never had anything but trouble from it as if, somehow, losing its owner had caused it to slowly start to break down.

He lifted it again and turned it over, determined to find the root cause of the problem before going to bed.

He would fix it.

He would fix everything.

XXXX

Despite the fact that he had no affiliation to either team, Peter was excited about the trip to Tiger Stadium to see the Tigers take on the White Sox. Mary had declined to accompany them, explaining that her hip was giving her some pain from all the walking they had done the previous day and that she wanted to make them a traditional Sunday roast for dinner. If Ben thought she would be angry or put out by the turn the conversation had taken the previous evening, he was wrong. She was bright and breezy, kissed and hugged him over breakfast as she always would and joined in with Peter's enthusiastic chatter.

"Did Grandpa take you to Tigers games when you were a kid?" Peter asked, his mouth half full of pancakes.

"Sure, when I was younger," Ben conceded, "but once I was older I used to go by myself or with my friends."

"How old were you when you started going by yourself?"

"Oh, I don't know...thirteen, fourteen maybe."

"I'm sixteen!" Peter declared.

"So?"

"So, you won't let me go to the Mets games by myself."

"No, I won't," Ben replied.

"But why not?"

"Because it was a different world back then. It was the late fifties, early sixties and...well...things were different."

"Hmmm," Peter frowned into his iced tea. "I don't see how."

"Can we go to the art institute tomorrow?" Pamela asked.

"Oh, yes," Mary chimed in. "I've been looking forward to that too."

Peter rolled his eyes, "Boring..."

"I'm going to the game with _you_ ," Pamela pointed out. "It's only fair you come to the museum with me."

"The game is going to be fun though, and you know you'll enjoy it," Peter pointed out. "I'm _not_ going to enjoy looking at paintings." He turned to Ben. "Maybe I could just stay here? Violet said that she and her sister were going to be staying with their grandparents this week."

"We'll see," Ben replied.

"Dad...!" Pamela retorted, her tone wounded.

"Pam, you're going to get to see the paintings," he said, "would you rather do that in peace or would you prefer your brother moaning the whole time?"

She paused and looked thoughtful before shrugging and taking another pancake off the plate in the middle of the table and adding chocolate syrup. "I don't care."

Ben met his mother's gaze and she smiled gently. "Diplomacy is a wonderful skill to have."

"Well I guess I get it from you," he replied. "This scene kind of reminds me of what it was like when Carol and I were at home."

"Did you fight a lot?" Pamela asked.

"All the time," Mary replied. "They were always at each other's throats about something. It used to drive your grandfather mad."

Her comment elicited a barrage of questions from both Pamela and Peter about what he had been like as a child and, for the next half hour, he found himself laughing and cringing in equal measure at the stories she decided to tell. The kids found them humorous too and he could almost see them looking at him in a different light. Almost as a person, not just their father.

The journey to the stadium and the game itself brought back so many memories, some of which he had almost forgotten. Of course there had been changes made in the years since he had last been at a game, but sitting in the stands he couldn't help but think that if he just looked to his left he would see his father sitting beside him, smoking a cigarette and making comments on almost every aspect of play, as though he could have done better had he been in charge.

He felt a shiver go through him.

Old ghosts.

For all her protestations, Pamela seemed more invested in the game than Peter. She shouted and cheered loudly while he was more reserved, watching closely, almost as though he was absorbing every pitch, strike and run, hoarding them away inside for him to mull over later and Ben suddenly found himself thinking about what it would be like if Peter elected to try for a scholarship at the University of Michigan. He glanced over at his son's profile. He'd be seventeen in only eight months. Choices were going to have to be made and sooner than he thought he might be ready for.

The Tigers were victorious 4-1 and the atmosphere as the crowds departed was jubilant. Back home, the kids regaled Mary with a blow by blow account of the game as she finished preparing and serving the dinner and, once finished, Peter declared he had never eaten so well.

"Grandma, can't you just move to New York and cook for us?" he asked.

"Oh I'm too old to be moving now," she laughed. "You can always come and visit though, whenever you want, and I'll be happy to cook for you."

"Yeah..." Peter replied thoughtfully. "That would be good."

Before the conversation could go any further, Violet and Lily appeared at the back door to ask if he and Pamela would like to go for a bike ride with them around the neighbourhood.

"We don't have bikes," Pamela replied, slightly sorrowfully.

"The bikes your father and Aunt Carol had are still in the garage if you want to try them," Mary said and the next few minutes were taken up with brushing off cobwebs, checking tyres and wobbly practice runs around the driveway before the four of them set off with strict instructions not to venture too far and to stay away from the main roads.

Alone in the house once again, Ben helped his mother clear up the debris of their meal, then the two of them ventured out into the backyard and sat on the ageing garden furniture listening to the sounds of the birds in the trees at the bottom of the garden and the children splashing in a paddling pool a few houses down.

He knew that she wouldn't bring it up again, but he felt as though he had to. The conversation had been left unfinished. There were things that he hadn't said, things he hadn't even realised he needed to say at the time. Through the whole day, breakfast, the game, dinner, even now...she was there in his mind. Coming to Michigan, putting even greater distance between them, it hadn't changed anything.

_Maybe this is how she felt in London._

"I've been thinking a lot about what you said last night," he said, looking out across the garden, not trusting himself to look at her. "And I figured that you're probably at least half right."

"Which half?"

"I really didn't know much about Evelyn when I met her, at least nothing that I hadn't heard second hand. I knew Edward was an asshole but...I didn't know how much of an asshole he was to her until the day I saw him grab her in the office. After that, eventually, she started confiding in me and, before I knew where I was, I was in love with her. It wasn't about saving her as such, she had already left him, but I guess I _did_ think that I could give her a better life than she had had with him. I don't know..." he shrugged, "maybe that _was_ me thinking I could save her."

"Ben I didn't mean it as a criticism," Mary said gently. "It isn't. It shows you have a kind heart and a helpful nature. But sometimes..."

"People need to save themselves?" She nodded. "I get that. I know that's what she was trying to tell me on the phone but..." he felt the sting of unwanted tears. "Peter asked me how long I would wait until she maybe decided that she wanted to be with me and I told him that I would wait as long as it takes..." He dashed his hand across his eyes. "After Laura and I separated I thought that I'd never get the chance to be so close to someone ever again. I thought...I thought that I had blown it forever and then she came along...and I know I could make her happy if she let me, I _know_ I could..."

"But she has to want that too," Mary said softly. "It can't all come from you."

"But I could be strong for both of us," he insisted, "I could. When I went to London to get her, I had to be strong for her and I _was..._ "

"But wouldn't you rather be in a relationship, with Evelyn or anyone, where you don't _need_ to be? Where that person can be equally strong on their own and, in turn, be strong for _you_ when _you_ need it?"

_You're right. God you're so right and yet..._

"The truth is..." he paused, hearing his voice shake. "The truth is I'm scared that she'll do all this therapy, that she'll get well, that she'll save herself and then decide that she doesn't want me anymore."

Mary sighed heavily. "Ben, if that happens, then she was never the one for you."

He turned to look at her. "Then who is?"

She reached across and squeezed his hand. "I don't know, darling."

"No," he said, letting out a long breath, "neither do I."


	24. Chapter 24

For the first week after she arrived Evelyn hadn't been able to open Ben's diary. After he had passed it to her that day in the garden, kissed her cheek and left, she had sat holding it, staring at it, too afraid to pull back the front cover and read what he had written. Not only that, but she had been too shaky, too needy for alcohol, too upset about the whole situation to give anything her proper attention and, despite everything, she knew that she owed him that. So the diary had sat on her bedside table for that entire first week. Every morning and every night she looked at it, at times her hand even stretching out and her fingers tracing the smoothness of the cover. But something still held her back.

It wasn't until she had been there a full week, until the fog had slowly started to lift, that she felt strong enough to actually turn the pages. Her heart had been in her mouth, her throat dry, her hand shaking. She was terrified of what she might see written there and then couldn't help but feel stupid, as if written words could inflict actual pain.

Once she started reading, she found that she couldn't stop. The afternoon turned into evening and she missed dinner because she was so engrossed in his words. She could hear him speaking them in her head, could imagine the expression on his face as he put pen to paper and she found herself laughing and crying in equal measure as she absorbed everything. The general posts gave her a strange feeling of calm. Reading about the job offer from Columbia, his mother visiting, what the kids had been up to was like still being a part of his world. But reading about his pain, his hurt, his anguish at her leaving, not to mention his love for her despite what she had done, struck deeper than she had thought it possibly could.

He was a good man, an honest man and she felt as though she could understand and accept some of the more difficult things he had written, like being attracted to the waitress in the jazz bar, like drinking too much and almost making a fool of himself in front of Shambala. He could have left those details out, she would most likely never have known, but the fact that he had included everything made her feel somehow closer to him.

She had mentioned the diary briefly, in passing, to Emma during one of their sessions. She had simply said that he had given her a diary to read detailing his thoughts and feelings and that she had indeed read it. Emma had tried to dig a little deeper, but she had found herself shutting down, unwilling to share with anyone, even in the sanctity of therapy, what he had meant for only her to read. It somehow felt like a violation of his trust to let anyone else in.

For days afterwards, she had been desperate to talk to him, to tell him that she loved him, that she needed him, that she wished he could be there with her. The three week rule regarding contact seemed almost cruel and inhuman. How was a person supposed to recover from their demons if they weren't able to have the security of being able to hear a friendly voice? But as time had passed, and her therapy had grown more intense and introspective, she had suddenly started to realise why the rule existed.

She couldn't be dependent on him. It wasn't fair to either of them. She couldn't rely on him for her happiness and security, she had to build that for herself. As Emma had said, she needed to love and care about herself before she could properly love and care about him...and she still hated herself. She hated herself for what she had put him through. She hated herself for how she had behaved in London. She hated herself for being so weak. She hated herself for spending so much time thinking and caring about a dead man. She hated herself for hating a small child who had done nothing wrong.

She hated herself.

She wasn't there yet.

The heat was oppressive. The air conditioning had been cranked up to the maximum but it still wasn't enough. Most patients were hidden away in their rooms, but she had elected to embrace the weather and sit out in the garden, on the same bench where she had said goodbye to him. Somehow, knowing it was somewhere he had been, made her feel close to him.

There was no wind, barely any sound save the birds in the trees. Through the open patio doors she could hear the clatter of dishes coming from the kitchen and, glancing at her watch, saw that it was almost lunchtime. It was funny how time could just slip away. Hours could go by sometimes and she felt as though she had nothing to show for it. As if she was on some glamorous celebrity retreat.

"Mind if I join you?"

She jumped and lifted her sunglasses to see Rose, one of the other patients, hovering nearby. They were of a similar age although Rose had the hollowed cheek and sunken eyed look of someone who had been a habitual drug user. She didn't know this for a fact, but she had seen plenty people with the same look over the years. They had spoken together a few times over the last few weeks, mainly just pleasantries in the cafeteria or lounge, but it had been nice to speak to someone on a general level rather than always in the setting of a therapy session and there were few patients who seemed to want to talk at all.

"Sure," she said, patting the bench beside her. "It's a beautiful day."

"Yeah it is," Rose agreed, sitting down next to her. "Such a pretty view."

"Sure is," she agreed, looking out over the vista. "People pay good money for it."

Rose laughed softly, "It's nice in winter too, when the whole valley's covered in snow. Not that you tend to sit out and look at it in mid-December."

"I bet it is."

"At Christmas, they decorate the place you know. Tree, tinsel, wreaths, lights the works. You even get presents. I guess it's to try and make it seem more like home. One year, they even had someone dressed up as Santa, as if we were kids or something."

Evelyn paused, "You've been here a few times then?"

"Yup," Rose nodded. "This is my fifth time. Hoping I can crack it this time."

Five times...the thought made her shudder, though she could also see how it could happen. You stay for eight weeks, you leave and then you can't cope without the structure and safety. You can't put into practice what you learned and so you end up back again, back to the familiarity.

"This your first time?" Rose asked.

"Yes," she nodded.

_And my last. Please God let it be my last._

XXXX

"Did you know that the Detroit Institute of Arts is regarded as among the top six museums in the whole of the US?" Pamela looked up from the brochure. "I mean, wow! And it has a hundred galleries!"

Ben smiled as he paid the admission fee and they made their way through the entrance and towards the belly of the building. Whilst the thought of wandering through a hundred galleries of art that he was unlikely to 'get' didn't exactly thrill and inspire him, Pamela's enthusiasm did and he couldn't help but think that his mother's suggestion that he and Pamela go alone had been a good one.

Peter hadn't taken much convincing to stay at home. Mary had roped him into helping her move some things about the garage with the promise that, once he did, he could go and hang out with Violet and Lily next door. Ben had emphasised to him that he was more than welcome to go to the museum with them but he had shaken his head and generously said that Pamela would probably enjoy it more if he wasn't there.

In all honesty, Ben was enjoying the time alone with his daughter. Second born kids often seemed to suffer from the fact that they had an older sibling around all the time and that unless a parent made the effort to have one-on-one time with them, they never got the full attention they perhaps needed. He knew he had been guilty of that both before and after the divorce and he was grateful even for a small chance to rectify that.

As Pamela chatted away, her nose in the brochure, directing them to where they should start, he realised that she was growing up so quickly. She would be fourteen in a few weeks time and, dressed for the warm weather, he couldn't help noticing how she had suddenly seemed to develop. Her legs were long and tanned, her waist was trim, her chest more noticeable than he would have liked and she had lost the puppy fat that had seemed to cling to her for years beforehand. She was going to be beautiful and part of him couldn't help but feel as though he wanted to throw something over her, keep her away from prying eyes. Being a father to a daughter was so different to being a father to a son and whilst he was amused at Peter's crush on Claire and his obvious liking of Violet, the thought of Pamela being interested in a boy made him feel anxious.

_What if she ends up with someone like Edward Burns?_

_Stop it! You'd never let that happen._

It was a good thing that they had arrived at the museum early. By lunchtime, they had only seen a quarter of the galleries, due to the fact that Pamela insisted on stopping and inspecting virtually everything in great detail. Although it was the height of the summer, the museum wasn't overly busy so when he suggested they stop for lunch in the on-site cafe, there was no difficulty in finding a table.

"This is great," Pamela declared after they had ordered their food. "There's still so much to see."

"We might not be able to get through it all in one day," he observed.

"Does that mean we'd have to come back?"

"Maybe, if there's time before we go home."

"Well what else are we going to be doing?" she asked, as though nothing else could compare.

"Well it might be nice to spend some time down at the lake. I thought you were keen to go out on a jet ski?"

"Oh yeah..." she looked back down at the brochure. "Did you ever come here when you were a kid?"

"Sure, a few times."

"With Grandma and Grandpa?"

"Your grandfather wasn't that keen, but your grandmother would bring me and your aunt Carol sometimes, especially if they had exhibitions that she thought we'd be interested in. She used to make a big picnic and we'd go to the park afterwards."

"Hmmm...have you ever been on a jet ski?"

He laughed, "Once, a long time ago."

"When?"

"When your mother and I were on our honeymoon."

"Did you fall off?"

"Oh yeah. Your mother thought it was hilarious. She always did have better balance than me."

"I think I'd be _great_ on a jet ski," she grinned. "Can we go on one tomorrow?"

He reached over and ruffled her hair, "Let's just get through today first."

As predicted, they were beaten by the clock and had to leave the museum without seeing all of the one hundred galleries. Pamela pouted slightly when he told her that they would have to go, but she perked up when he reminded her about her desire to try out a jet ski the following day and her entire conversation back to the car was about how fast she was going to go once she got the hang of it.

As they approached the spot where he had left the car, Ben's attention was drawn to a petite, dark haired woman standing in front of her, her head bent. As they drew nearer, he saw her reach across the bonnet and slip something under the windshield wiper before stepping back.

"Can I help you?" he asked, causing her to jump and turn to look at him.

"Oh, you scared me! I'm sorry, is this your car?"

"Uh...well it's my mother's, why?"

"I'm so sorry but I managed to back into it when I was trying to reverse out of my space," she gestured to the front bumper and he saw that it was badly dented. "It was _completely_ my fault, my mind was elsewhere. I was just leaving my card and a note with my details." She reached over and retrieved it from under the wiper. "I'm very sorry."

He took it from her, noting that it was a business card in the name of Hannah Woods and that she appeared to be an editor at a Detroit publishing house. Flipping it over, he saw that she had left her phone number and insurance details.

"Well these things happen," he said. "It's not as if it's a new car."

"No, but I know it's a hassle getting these things repaired when it's not your fault," she ran a hand through her hair. "Your car appears to have come off worse than mine. Sorry, I'm Hannah," she held out her hand.

"Ben," he said, returning the gesture.

"Look, please get a quote for the repairs and call me. If you want to sort it out without going through the insurance I'm happy to do that. Whatever easier for you and your mother." She smiled apologetically. "Not exactly how I envisioned a trip to the museum ending."

"Oh we were there too," he gestured to Pamela. "My daughter's quite the art enthusiast."

"That's nice," Hannah said, nodding at Pamela. "My kids prefer just running around. I don't think they appreciate any of the artwork, but it's somewhere to take them I guess. Anyway, I'd better get going. Please call me," she gestured to the card again, "and I'm really very sorry."

"No problem," he said, getting into the car and watching as she gingerly pulled away, flashing him a wave as she did so. He turned the card over in hand again and then slid it into his pocket.

"Are you going to call her?" Pamela asked quietly as he started the engine.

"We'll need to see what your grandmother says. I guess it depends on how much the repairs are going to be." He looked over at her and she looked away. "What?"

She fixed her gaze on something out of the window. "Nothing."

XXXX

"Oh my," Mary said, surveying the damage later that evening. "She certainly gave it a good knock, didn't she?"

"Do you have a local repair shop that could take a look at it?" Ben asked.

"Sure, I usually go to Mack Auto Center. The boys there have always been very accommodating in the past. I can run it down there in the morning and see what they say. What were you thinking about doing tomorrow anyway?"

"Well I'd said to Pamela about going down to the lake. She was wanting to try some watersports and I figured Peter would too. I thought we could all go, maybe take a picnic?"

"Sounds good as long as you're not expecting me to get out on the water," Mary said.

"I can just see _you_ on a jet ski," he laughed. "But I can take the car down in the morning, save you having to do it."

"What are you trying to say?" she put her hands on her hips. "That I'm not capable of getting my own car fixed?"

"No, of course not. But I can hardly sit idly by and watch you go down there."

"Why not? Are you trying to tell me that I'm too old?"

"Mom..."

"Ben, I have lived on my own here for over fifteen years and I am more than capable of sorting out a cracked bumper. Now, come on inside, dinner's ready."

He followed her inside, smiling to himself at her stubbornness. When his father had been alive, she had acquiesced mostly with what he had wanted and had allowed him to be the 'face' of the family. After he had died and she had proved herself to be ably competent at most of the tasks his father had claimed for himself during their marriage, he had asked her why she hadn't stepped forwards more and she had simply replied that it hadn't been 'the done thing in those days.' He couldn't help but think that, in many ways, she had really only started to live after becoming a widow.

Peter talked non-stop over dinner about the fun day he had spent with Violet and Lily and seemed excited about the prospect of going to the lake the next day. By contrast, Pamela was fairly quiet, pushing her food around her plate and giving one word answers to any questions posed about the museum. Afterwards, as Peter helped Mary with the washing up, Ben found her outside at the bottom of the garden, tracing her finger over the etched writing on the large oak tree.

"Your grandfather carved that for your aunt Carol and I," he observed, watching as her finger slid across the B of his name. "The tree was a bit smaller back then of course." She said nothing. "Is everything ok? I thought you enjoyed the museum but you barely said anything about it over dinner."

"Did you like that lady?" Pamela asked, her gaze still on the tree.

"What lady?"

"The one who hit Grandma's car."

He paused, "Uh...I'm not sure I understand..."

"Did you _like_ her?" she turned to face him.

"Pam, I don't even know her," he replied. "I must have spoken to her for all of a minute, if that."

"She gave you her number."

"Yes, so that we can contact her about the cost of repairing your grandmother's car." He frowned. "What is this about?"

She shrugged, "I thought maybe you liked her. You looked at her as though you did."

"I wasn't aware that I looked at her in any kind of way."

"Peter told me."

"Peter told you what?"

"About Evelyn just wanting to be your friend."

"Ah..." he leaned back against the tree trunk, "So...what, you think that I'm looking for another girlfriend?"

"Are you?"

"No," he shook his head. "I'm not."

"Maybe you should."

"Why?" She shrugged again. "Do you _want_ me to have another girlfriend?"

"No."

"Well then..."

"I want you to have _Evelyn_ as your girlfriend," she burst out. "I want you to try harder, Dad. Peter said that you just said it was ok when she said that she wanted to be your friend. Why did you say that? Why didn't you tell her that you wanted her to be your girlfriend?"

Her simplistic way of looking at things almost made him smile. Almost, but not quite. "Because it wouldn't have been fair to her to do that. She's still trying to get better and I'm trying to help her by going along with what she wants."

"You mean lying to her."

He paused, "I'm not lying to her."

"Yes you are!" she exclaimed. "If you still want her to be your girlfriend then you should have told her that! You've always said that we shouldn't lie."

"I know and..."

"And that's what you're doing! You're lying!"

"Pam..." he stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders, "I don't expect you to understand..."

"I'm almost fourteen, I'm not a baby!" she moved out of his reach. "It's not fair."

"Pam..."

"It's not!" she turned on her heel and hurried back into the house, slamming the back door shut after her.

"No," he sighed, "it's not fair."


	25. Chapter 25

"Do you think I need to look into getting some help for the kids?"

Mary looked up from the magazine she was flipping through, "What sort of help?"

"I'm not sure," Ben replied. "Counselling maybe? They've both been through a lot over the last year what with their mother and moving to the city and Evelyn leaving...I don't know maybe it would help them to talk to somebody."

"Is this because of what Pamela said to you?"

He paused and looked down the sand to where he could see Pamela and Peter playing together at the shore of Lake St Clair. They were tossing water at each other, laughing, joking and generally bickering over who had built the best sandcastle. "I suppose."

Pamela had barely spoken over breakfast that morning, only to brighten up when he had suggested that they spend the day at the beach given the good weather. Mary had taken the car to the repair shop, despite his protestations that he would do it for her, and had returned with a quote for a hundred dollars and a promise that it could be fixed the following day. In light of the news he had been poised to call Hannah and tell her, but something had stopped him and he wasn't sure exactly what.

"Have they said they want to talk to anyone?"

"No," he admitted. "But perhaps they wouldn't. They _are_ only kids after all."

"Well," Mary stretched back in her deckchair, "I suppose all you can do is suggest it to them. Are you annoyed at what Pamela said?"

"Yes, a bit. For a start, I wasn't looking at Hannah in any way inappropriately..."

"It's Hannah, is it?"

He paused and looked over at her. Her eyes were hidden behind her sunglasses but there was a faint hint of a smile playing around the corner of her mouth. "Would you rather I referred to her as Ms Woods?" Mary shrugged good-naturedly. "Besides, I don't think it was that which bothered her so much as it is how she perceives I'm lying to Evelyn."

"Do _you_ think you're lying to her?"

"No. I can be her friend and still love her, can't I?"

"So long as you can still separate the two."

"You were the one who told me that I needed to let her do this! You were the one who said that her deciding to take a step back would be a good thing for me!"

"I know I did and I still think that." She took off her sunglasses and leaned forwards. "But I also think that you don't need to live the life of a monk just because Evelyn's made that decision." She raised her eyebrows.

"For heaven's sake mother..." he muttered as the kids came pounding up the beach towards them and flung themselves down on their towels. "Having fun?"

"It's almost as good as Florida was," Pamela said, breathing heavily.

"When can we try the jet skis?" Peter asked, pointing further down the beach to where a dozen or so were bobbing next to a long stretch of boardwalk that jutted out into the lake.

"Before we go back to the house," Ben replied. "It's almost lunchtime and I don't think it's advisable to go out on one on a full stomach."

"Bleurgh," Pamela made a face. "I bet Peter would puke everywhere."

"I would not!" he replied indignantly. "What's for lunch anyway?"

Mary unpacked the picnic that she had made that morning and they tucked into sandwiches, chocolate cookies, chips and cold soda. Hardly the healthiest of meals but as she had said, they were on vacation after all.

"I wish we could just stay here," Pamela said wistfully, wiping her mouth. "Why aren't there any beaches in the city?"

"There are," Ben replied, "Well, at least one that I can think of over at Pelham Bay."

"That's _miles_ away," she moaned. "It's not the same."

"Come on," Peter got to his feet. "I'll race you back down to the water."

Ben watched as the two of them sped away, pushing each other in their quest to be there first and then falling over into the water screaming and laughing.

"You know...it might not be a bad idea," Mary mused.

"What might not be a bad idea?"

"Staying here."

"Mom, come on..." he turned to face her. "We live in New York, remember? I can't uproot the kids again and I've got this new job at Columbia, not to mention the fact that Laura would never agree."

"I wasn't talking about moving here permanently," she replied. "But how many more weeks of vacation do the kids have?"

"Three after this week."

"Well...why not stay a little longer? It's not as if I'm needing the space back and the kids seem to be enjoying it. You'd be able to change the tickets quite easily."

"I can't," he shook his head. "Laura would miss out on some of her time with them and she wouldn't be happy about that. Besides, they have another week of summer camp before school starts up again."

"You don't have to stay for the full three weeks. Even just one more week might be beneficial for all of you." Mary paused. "You don't have to give me an answer right now. Think about it. There's no rush. It was only an idea."

She opened her magazine again, giving him a natural way out of the conversation. He sat back in his chair letting the sun warm his face and closed his eyes. Maybe it would be good to stay another week. There was more to entertain the kids here than there would be at home and he had to admit he was enjoying being away somewhere different.

Home, even if it had been so long since he had called it that.

XXXX

"Well I'm...I'm not quite sure what we're supposed to say to each other."

Evelyn took a breath and closed her eyes. She had been dreading the phone call, in an entirely different way from how she had been dreading Ben's call. Then she had been anxious, nervous about how he might react or what he might say. But this dread...it had almost been enough to make her tell the staff that she didn't want to make the call at all.

Emma had convinced her that opening some sort of honest dialogue with her mother was a positive step forward but, in all honesty, she wasn't convinced and from the tone of her mother's opening gambit, she knew it wasn't going to be easy.

"I suppose we could start with how are you?" she said finally.

"I'm alright, I suppose," Susan replied. "Concerned about you, naturally."

"Naturally."

"I honestly thought that Sarah was joking when she called to tell me that you were...there. I mean, I had no idea. I thought you were having fun in London. I thought that you were making friends and building a new life. I suppose I couldn't have really thought any different given that you never seemed to have time to call me." Susan paused. "Sarah said that it's an addiction clinic?"

"That's right," Evelyn said calmly. "But they also deal with post traumatic stress disorder."

"And is that what you have?"

"Yes and I was using alcohol to help deal with it."

"Oh. What are they saying caused it?"

Evelyn closed her eyes again, practicing the deep breathing techniques that Emma had shown her, and willing herself to remain as calm as possible. "It's been caused by all the trauma I've suffered Mom. Eddie abusing me, being shot, losing the baby..."

"I see. So you think that they can help you?"

"They're already helping me. I'm a lot better than I was when I arrived here."

"Yes, Sarah told me that Ben went over to London to get you. That was very good of him."

"Yes it was."

There was an elongated silence. She wanted to tell her mother what she thought about her, what she _really_ thought about her but Emma had cautioned her to keep the first contact straightforward and dispassionate. There would be time for deeper confrontations later on when she was stronger.

"How long will you be staying?"

"Didn't they tell you that when you called?"

"Well, yes but..."

"Eight weeks. I'm almost halfway there so another four to go."

"I see. And where are you planning to stay once you're...released?"

"Not with you, don't worry."

"That wasn't..."

"I'm going to get an apartment. Ben said that he would help me find one."

"Oh, so you're not going to stay with him?"

"No."

"I see." Evelyn closed her eyes again, wishing she would pick another phrase other than _I see._ "Well I...like I said, I don't really know what to say. I hope that you get better soon."

"Thank you and thanks for taking my call."

"Well I wouldn't not, would I? I'm your mother."

"Yes. Yes you are."

"I suppose I should go then. They said I can call every week now that you've called me so...I will."

"That would be nice."

"Alright then. Take care darling."

"You too."

She replaced the receiver slowly and let out a breath that she hadn't realised she had been holding. All those times she had spoken to Elizabeth...all those times she had intended taking her mother to therapy with her...all those times she had been able to find an excuse. There were no excuses anymore, there couldn't be. There were things that needed to be said, long overdue things that needed to be said. She knew her mother wasn't going to like it but, for her own sanity, she would need to say them.

It was about starting as she meant to go on.

There was no other way.

XXXX

By the time they got home from the lake, Peter and Pamela were happily exhausted, collapsing onto the couch and switching on the television whilst Mary busied herself in the kitchen preparing a light dinner. Ben had offered to help her but she had shooed him away so he had found himself in his father's study. Little had changed in all the years since he had died. His medical diploma was still displayed on the wall and the room was dotted with knick knacks that he had picked up on his travels. There were framed photographs on his desk of the family, including a fairly recent one of Peter and Pamela that he had sent to his mother, and he wondered what sort of desk he would have in his office at Columbia. He hoped there would be space for photographs.

Sitting down in his father's chair, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the business card Hannah had passed him the previous day. Given that they now had a quote for repairs, it was only fair to let her know what it was, but as he dialled her number, he couldn't help feeling a strange sense of trepidation.

She answered on the fifth ring, "Hello?"

"Hi," he heard himself say. "Is that Hannah?"

"Yes it is, who's this?"

"It's Ben. Ben Stone. We met in the parking lot at the museum yesterday."

"Oh gosh, yes of course!" she exclaimed. "I'm sorry, I didn't recognise your voice. How are you?"

"Fine thanks, you?"

"Yes, fine."

"I was just calling because my mother had her car looked at today and it's going to cost a hundred dollars to fix the bumper."

"Oh that's not too bad," she said. "I was expecting it to be a lot more. Do you want to just do it between ourselves then rather than involving the insurance?"

"Sure," he agreed, "if that suits you. They said they can fix it tomorrow."

"Absolutely. Listen, why don't you give me the address of the repair shop and I can meet you down there?"

He paused, "Oh...uh, sure. If it's not too much trouble?"

"No it's fine. The kids are going to my mother's tomorrow so I won't have to worry about dragging them down there with me." She paused. "Maybe I could buy you a cup of coffee whilst it's getting fixed, you know, to say sorry."

"You don't have to do that..."

"No, I'd like to. It's an inconvenience for you after all."

Pamela's words from the previous evening rung in his ear. If she knew that he was planning to do anything other than simply meet Hannah and have her pay the repair bill he knew that she wouldn't be happy. But there was hardly anything sinister about having a cup of coffee with the woman.

"Ok," he said. "Does ten suit?"

"Perfect," she noted down the address. "I'll see you there."

He hung up the phone and sat staring at it for a long moment.

_It's not a betrayal. You're just friends now. Besides, it's not as if you're going to sleep with her. It's a cup of coffee for Christ's sake._

He wandered back into the kitchen where Mary was dishing up cold meat salads for dinner and, automatically, he began setting the table. Minutes later, the kids came in, red-faced and sleepy eyed and dinner was a quiet affair with the two of them retreating to bed quickly thereafter. Once he had helped his mother clear up, he too excused himself and climbed the stairs to bed, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over him as he sat down on the bed, the phone on the nightstand catching his eye.

It was too early to call. He'd only spoken to her four days earlier and the rules were quite strict. Besides, he wasn't sure what more they could say to each other at this point, apart from him regaling her with stories of their trip.

 _Now here's a question..._ he thought to himself as he undressed and slid under the summer duvet. _If you did talk to her, would you tell her that you were going for coffee with Hannah tomorrow?_

XXXX

It was a relatively short drive to the repair shop so, being on his own, Ben took the opportunity to take a detour through the old familiar neighbourhood, past his old school, the local library, the park...all the places he had frequented as a youngster. It was strange seeing them all again through fresh eyes. If he allowed his mind to wander, he could picture himself as a teenager again before all the responsibilities of adulthood, career, marriage and children and he couldn't help but wonder if he would do anything differently given the chance.

It was just before ten when he pulled into the repair shop and was greeted by John, the mechanic that his mother had mentioned he should speak to. With no hesitation he had taken the keys and driven the car inside leaving Ben standing out on the concourse just as Hannah drove in and parked beside him.

"Hi," she said, opening the door and stepping outside. "I hope you haven't been waiting too long?"

"No, I just got here," he replied. "They've just taken the car in. They said it should take about an hour or so."

"Great, let's go get that coffee." She gestured to the passenger seat and he got in, pulling on his seatbelt as she reversed and slid back out into the morning traffic. "I know a little place not far from here that does the best coffee in Detroit."

"That's a pretty big claim."

"I know," she laughed. "It probably isn't true but, hell, I like the coffee there so..." She paused at an intersection. "What's your daughter up to today then? Not dragging you back to the museum?"

"No," he said. "She and my son are spending the day with the neighbour's grandkids. Last I heard they were making up a picnic and heading off on their bikes."

"How old?"

"Sixteen and thirteen."

"Mine are thirteen, eight and five," Hannah said. "It can be hard to find something to entertain all three of them sometimes. My eldest gets frustrated with the little ones and half the time I find myself refereeing their arguments. So...do you live out here then?"

"Uh no, not any more. I grew up here but the kids and I live in New York now."

"Wow, bright lights big city?"

"Something like that. We're just out here on vacation visiting my mother."

"That's nice," Hannah paused. "Divorced?"

He laughed, "Is it that obvious?"

"Well you're not wearing a wedding ring," she glanced quickly at him. "Sorry, that was a really rude thing to say. I'm sure plenty of married men don't wear rings. My husband used to always say that I spoke first and thought later."

"You're divorced too?"

"Widowed. He died last year."

"Oh..." Ben paused. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's fine." She pulled up alongside a row of shops. "Here we go."

The coffee shop had a quaint interior. Wooden tables and chairs, homemade crafts adorning the shelves that lined the interior, bunting strung from the beams and a wonderful smell of coffee to boot.

"I guess it _is_ a little twee," Hannah admitted as he looked around. "But I promise it's good coffee."

"I don't doubt you," he smiled as they picked a table and then ordered. It was busy for a Wednesday morning and he watched as several people came in, saw that there were no free tables and left again. "Do you come here a lot?"

"Sure, whenever I get the chance. It's not as much fun with three kids in tow, but when they're in school and I get a day off work I like to come and sit, read a book sometimes and just try to unwind a bit." She smiled. "I can't imagine that's the sort of thing that you would do though."

"It has been known. There are some nice coffee houses in New York."

"I've been once or twice with work, but never for any great length of time. I'm an editor, though I guess you worked that out from the card I gave you."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Absolutely. There's something very satisfying about it." She paused and thanked the waitress as their coffees were delivered to the table. "What about you? What do you do?"

He paused before answering. "I was an attorney, but I'm just about to start a new job lecturing at Columbia in the Fall."

"Oh, interesting," she nodded. "What kind of law did you practice?"

"I worked at the District Attorney's office," he said, the use of the past tense still causing a strange sensation in his stomach.

"Well I bet you saw a lot of things there."

"I did."

"What made you decide to go into lecturing?"

He paused again. Somehow telling her about how he had inadvertently got a witness killed didn't seem entirely appropriate for their level of acquaintance. "It was time to move on," he settled on, tasting the coffee and smiling at her. "You were right, it _is_ good."

She smiled back, "Well I may be shit at driving, but I can definitely tell good coffee when I taste it."

The conversation flowed easily between them, though Ben found himself holding back on a lot of personal information. He talked about Laura and how they had been divorced for a long time and about how the kids had come to live with him, leaving out the specific details, but he deliberately made no mention of Evelyn. Not because she didn't matter, not because she wasn't part of his story, but because she _did_ matter and because he couldn't help feeling a slight frisson of guilt as he found himself admiring the darkness of Hannah's eyes.

She in turn talked about her late husband, explaining that he had started experiencing severe stomach pains the previous summer and, after eventually attending the doctor, had been given the news that he had stage four bowel cancer and only a few months to live, finally passing away just before Thanksgiving. She shed no tears when she talked about him which, selfishly, he was grateful for but her expression took on a sad, faraway look and he almost, but not quite, found himself reaching out to touch her hand in sympathy.

"Gosh, look at the time!" she said suddenly glancing at her watch. "The repair shop are going to think you've just abandoned the car. We'd better get back. I told my mother I'd get the kids before lunch." The ride back was pleasant, Hannah talking about favourite spots that her kids liked to go to and how it might give him some ideas for the remainder of his trip. "Not that I should need to tell a native like you," she added.

"Any ideas are always welcome," he replied as they pulled back onto the forecourt and got out. Hannah went forward and spoke to John, pulling the money out of her pocket and handing it to him then stepping back whilst he went to write a receipt.

"Looks good as new," she observed. "I'm really sorry again."

"Don't be," he reassured her. "Accidents happen."

"Thank you for being so understanding. A lot of people wouldn't be."

John returned with the receipt and handed Ben the car keys. As he turned to go over to the drivers' door he suddenly paused and turned back, torn between whether to just get in and drive away or do something completely reckless instead.

"Can I buy you dinner sometime?" he heard himself say.

Hannah paused and looked at him, clearly unable to hide a look of surprise, "Uh..."

"No listen it's fine..."

"No, no that sounds nice," she said. "I'd like that. When...uh...when were you thinking?"

"Well, I don't know," he said, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Tomorrow night?"

"Sure, that sounds fine. I'll need to check with my mother that she can babysit though. Could you maybe give me your number and I'll call you later?" Reaching into her bag she pulled out another business card and a pen and handed them to him. He hurriedly wrote down his mother's number and passed them back. "Great. I'll give you a call."

"Sounds good," he said.

"Right then. I'd best be going." She opened the car door. "I'll talk to you later."

"Bye." He watched as she started the engine and pulled out of the forecourt, disappearing around the corner.

_What have you done? You've asked another woman out on a date, are you insane?_

"No," he said to himself as he slid into the driver's seat. "I'm living my life."


	26. Chapter 26

He took his time getting ready though he wasn't altogether sure why. Hannah had called the previous evening to say that her mother had agreed to babysit and that she would be happy to have dinner with him. She had suggested making a reservation at a local restaurant and he had arranged to pick her up at seven-fifteen. After putting the phone down he had found a way to tell his mother about the date, but elected to keep it from Peter and Pamela. Fortunately, the Sheehans' had offered to take them and their own grandkids to the movies and therefore there was really no need for them to know that he was going out at all.

He was nervous, though again he wasn't entirely sure why. They were just going for dinner. It didn't mean anything. Couldn't a man and a woman have dinner without it being something it wasn't?

_Who are you kidding? You think she's attractive. You know why you asked her to dinner._

"You look nice," Mary commented when he came down the stairs and he found himself glancing self-consciously at the shirt and slacks he had opted for. "What time are you picking her up?"

"Seven-fifteen," he checked his watch, "so I'll need to go soon."

"Are you taking flowers?"

"No." He paused. "Should I?"

Mary shrugged, "It's up to you."

"I don't think I ever took flowers for Evelyn," he said, then paused. "Maybe I should have. But then it was all so fast..." he shook his head. "I don't know, flowers seem a bit over the top. We're only going for dinner."

"Well that's fine," Mary said. "Don't do anything you don't feel comfortable with."

"Well that could cover anything," he replied wryly, lifting the car keys from the peg by the door. "What time did you say the kids would be home?"

"Peter said the movie doesn't finish until ten-thirty so by the time they all get out I don't see them being back before eleven at the earliest." She paused. "You don't have to sneak around behind their backs, Ben. Like you said, it's only dinner."

"I know," he nodded. "But I'm not sure they'd see it that way, especially Pam and I don't want to upset them right now." He bent and kissed her cheek. "I'll see you later."

"Have a nice time."

The drive to Hannah's home only took ten minutes and when he drew up outside, he caught a glimpse of her at the front window. She waved and then, moments later, appeared at the front door, locking it behind her before hurrying down the path to the car. As she did so, he couldn't help but admire the grey cigarette pants and pale purple shirt she was wearing, her dark hair bouncing about her shoulders as she hurried to open the passenger door.

"Hi," she greeted him, pulling the door shut behind her. "I was watching for you."

"I saw you," he replied, pulling away from the kerb. "How are you?"

"Good, how are you?"

"Good. Your mother has the kids?"

"Yeah, she's keeping them overnight. I thought that would be easier all round."

He nodded but didn't say anything, wondering what she was thinking. It was only dinner. It hadn't _really_ crossed his mind that they might...

"Oh Lord, I mean that it was easier for the kids," she added suddenly. "I mean you...this is the first time I've been out with someone since their father died and I didn't want them to know...I'm sorry I wasn't suggesting that..."

"It's fine," he said. "I know what you meant."

They drove in companionable silence as he joined the freeway and then came off to head into Greektown to the restaurant that she had suggested. The traffic was light for a Thursday evening so it didn't take long and fortunately, he found a space to park close to where they were going.

"Better watch out for women drivers who can't reverse," Hannah joked as they got out and headed up to the door.

"Well you're not driving tonight so I reckon I'll be fine," he replied with a laugh.

Inside the restaurant was busy with other patrons but they were quickly shown to their table in the corner and Ben found himself gazing around at the rustic authenticity of the place as the waiter provided them with menus and took a drinks order. "Have you been here before?" he asked once they were alone.

"A few times," she replied. "I've had some lovely nights out with friends here and the food's really good."

"What would you recommend?"

"Oh, definitely the Avgolemono soup," she said, leaning over and pointing at his menu. "And the Pegasus Garithes is _amazing._ But then so is the salmon. Honestly, I've never had a bad meal here." The waiter returned with water and the beer they had ordered and, once poured, she held out her glass. "Cheers."

"Cheers," he said, clinking hers with his own. "Here's to...uh..."

_Being unfaithful?_

_Stop it. Stop analysing it._

_You're just friends._

"A nice meal with a new friend," Hannah said.

XXXX

_Dear Ben,_

_I thought it was only fair that I write something to you after you wrote your diary for me. I can't tell you what it meant to read everything that you'd written. In all honesty, some of it was hard for me to take in. Reading about how you felt when I left and how much I had hurt you wasn't easy, but I needed to really know you felt, so thank you. I wish I had kept some kind of journal when I went to London. It might have been useful for you to have some kind of insight into what I was going through during those months, rather than you having to rely on me simply telling you which, in all honesty, isn't easy for me to do. I feel as though I've hurt you again by telling you that I think we should be friends. I don't think I explained it very well over the phone, in fact I know I didn't. I need you to know that this is..._

Evelyn lifted her pen from the paper and looked down at what she had written, wondering suddenly if it sounded utterly pathetic instead of meaningful as she had intended. Having read his diary, she had spent so long thinking about how to address it with him. Just bringing it up over the phone didn't seem right. It wouldn't convey to him exactly how much his words had meant to her, however hard some of them had been to take, nor fully explain why she had reached the decision that she had. Which was why she had come up with the idea of writing a letter instead, something personal, something for him.

_...this is not something that I thought about lightly. When you came to London, when you told me that you loved me, when you held me in your arms and told me that I would always be yours, I guess I couldn't take it in properly. I was so wrapped up in my own feelings that I suppose I wasn't able to think about yours. But you brought me here. You saved me from God only knows what and I don't want you to think for one minute that I am not grateful for that. I don't want you to think for one minute that I don't love you, because I do._

She paused again and sat back in the chair. How do you tell someone you love them but that you can only be their friend? How do you explain to them that you still want them, still need them, still hope that things can go back to the way they were yet ask them to wait for you?

_I know it's selfish of me to ask you to hang around waiting to see if I'm going to get better. I want to. I really want to, more than anything. I want to be the Evelyn that I was before I met Eddie. I was a happy person, a fun-loving person, a loving person...I even think you might have liked me back then. Maybe if things had been different in our lives and we had met all those years ago things would be different now. But we didn't and they're not. But you deserve to meet that Evelyn and decide for yourself if she's someone that you can love, that you can be with..._

She wiped her hand across her eyes and hesitated before continuing.

_Please wait for me. Please don't give up on me._

_I love you._

XXXX

It was the strangest feeling.

He was enjoying dinner. The food was as she had described and her choices for him had been spot on. The beer was good too, though he had limited himself to only one given that he was driving. A screaming headline about a former ADA arrested for a DUI didn't sit well with him. He was also enjoying Hannah's company. She was witty, intelligent, interesting...he had learned a lot about editing books since they sat down and had in turn, told her what he felt he could about prosecuting crime in the city. She listened attentively to what he was saying, smiling and nodding. She didn't seem bored. Her eyes didn't wander around the restaurant as though she was waiting for someone better to come along, and she was pretty, very pretty. Her dark hair and her dark eyes were, he had to admit, very alluring and part of him couldn't help but wonder what kind of underwear she was wearing.

But...and it was a pretty big but...she wasn't Evelyn.

He could look at Hannah and admire all her attributes, but in his mind the dark hair and dark eyes gave way to auburn fire and clear blue, the slightly olive skin morphed into peaches and cream with dimples and he realised that she could be as pretty and as engaging as any man could ever want...but she wasn't for him.

When the waiter came to clear away the dishes and leave the dessert menu, she excused herself to go to the restroom and though he found his gaze following her as she wound her way through the tables, he couldn't help but wish that it would be Evelyn who came back again.

_You're not being fair. She's a nice woman. You can't spend the rest of the evening comparing her to someone else._

He had scanned the menu, selecting chocolate mousse and coffee for himself by the time she returned and, as she sat back down opposite him, he couldn't help but notice that her expression had changed. She looked slightly unsure, worried almost.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

She looked up at him, "Yes, of course."

"Are you sure?"

She made as if to reassure him and then stopped. "No...no I guess it isn't." She sighed heavily and drained the last of her beer. "I'm sorry, it's just...when I was in the restroom and I was thinking about what a nice meal we'd had and how easy the conversation had been, I realised that..." she shook her head, "I'm not ready for this. David's been gone less than a year and...and I know I have to move on but...I don't think I'm ready to do that just yet."

He let out a long breath, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief wash over him.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't mean to lead you on..."

"You didn't, you haven't," he said. "In fact...I wasn't completely honest with you before. I _am_ divorced and I have been for a long time but...I've only recently come out of a serious relationship, heck, I'm not even sure if it's really over and...uh...even if it is...I don't think I'm ready to move on yet either."

Hannah nodded, "You know, I had a feeling."

"You did?"

"Yeah. Don't ask me what it was but I just sensed that there was something that didn't quite add up." She smiled ruefully. "At least we've been honest with each other now. I suppose that means we can enjoy the rest of the evening without worrying about where it might lead."

_Thank God..._

They ordered dessert and coffee, Hannah talking a little bit more about her late husband, but when she opened the door for him to talk about Evelyn, he found that all he could say was that she had had a difficult previous marriage, was going through some things at the moment and that he still loved her. Anything else felt like the betrayal he had tried hard to avoid. To her credit, she didn't push him, simply nodded sympathetically.

"Please let me pay half," she said when the waiter brought the cheque. "It feels wrong for you to pick up the whole bill."

"Not at all," he said, laying cash down on the silver tray. "I invited you out so...I pay."

"Well that's very kind, thank you."

The drive back took little time and it had just gone ten-thirty when he pulled up outside her house again and killed the engine.

"Thank you for a lovely evening and for understanding," Hannah said.

"Thank _you_ ," he replied. "You were great company and...uh...whoever you end up with, whenever that may be, will be a very lucky man."

"That's very sweet," she said softly. "Thank you. And I hope that you and Evelyn find a way back to each other, if that's what you both want." He nodded as she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, lingering a little too long in his space. "You know...it doesn't always have to be about heavy emotions."

He looked at her questioningly.

"Sometimes...it can just be about the physical...and that's ok."

"You're uh...you're saying..."

"I'm saying you could come inside. I'm saying that it doesn't have to mean anything."

He studied her face, the expression, the feelings that he could identify behind her eyes and even though her close proximity to him was stirring him in the most natural way, he couldn't help but think about everything that his mother had said about him.

_White knight._

_White knights rescue damsels in distress, they don't sleep with grieving widows._

"Thank you for the offer..."

"That's ok," she moved back over to her own seat. "I'm sorry...too much beer I guess." She opened the door and stepped out. "It was nice to meet you."

"You too," he replied, then she slammed the door and hurried up the path to her front door, closing it behind her without looking back. He drove home slowly but, to his relief, there was no sign of life at the Sheehans' so he concluded that Peter and Pamela weren't yet home.

"Did you have a nice evening?" Mary asked from where she was sat on the couch knitting.

"Yes, the food was good and she was good company."

"But?"

He shook his head and smiled. It would take too long to explain and, in any event, he wanted to keep the feelings to himself. He climbed the stairs to his room, changed out of his clothes and slid into bed. Twenty minutes later, he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and his mother warning the kids to be quiet because he was sleeping. He opened his mouth to shout that he wasn't, then thought better of it, turned over and was asleep within minutes.

XXXX

"You're planning on staying another week?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Ben rolled his eyes, "Because the kids are having a good time. They've made friends with some girls next door and there are still a lot of things that they want to do here."

"Well I think that's pretty selfish of you if I'm being honest," Laura replied. "I could have kept them longer in Florida but I didn't because I respected that you would want them to come back home."

"If you had asked, I would have let you keep them longer."

"Oh, well it's all very well to say that now when the moment's passed, isn't it?"

"Laura, you wouldn't be due to see them until the following weekend anyway. We would be landing on the Saturday morning and you could have them for as long as you wanted after that."

"And what if I'd wanted them to come up during the week? Our arrangement has always been flexible Ben, even in the old days."

"Would you rather talk to them yourself?" he asked, quickly losing patience. "It's only one more week for God's sake!"

"Fine," she replied tartly. "I'll remember that next time I want to take them somewhere, or next time you ask me to look after them at short notice because you want to go gallivanting across the Atlantic to..."

He hung up before she could finish the sentence and sighed heavily.

_So much for moving forwards in our parenting._

In the back garden, Peter and Pamela were having a water pistol fight, Mary gamely refereeing from the safety of the patio. He sat down in the chair beside her and lifted the morning paper. "Laura wasn't too thrilled about the idea but..."

"You're going to stay?" she looked at him hopefully.

"For another week, if you'll have us."

"Oh, of course I will, you know that it's not a problem. I've loved having you all here." She paused. "Are you going to be seeing your lady friend again?"

"I doubt it and don't call her that," he replied, lowering his voice. "I don't want the kids to know about it."

"Well if you're not going to see her again, I don't see the problem. Unless you're intending going out trawling the streets of an evening."

"Hardly," he replied. "I'm due to call Evelyn today anyway."

"You get to call her this time?"

"Now that she's made the first contact, yes. Though I suppose I should call the clinic first and organise a time to do it so that they can let her know in advance."

"Why can't you just call and ask to talk to her?"

"Because they need to check with her that she's ok about talking to me. It's the same rule for everyone," he explained on her look. "Evelyn has to be comfortable with the contact. If she isn't then it doesn't happen."

"I can't see her saying no, can you?"

"No, I can't. But that reminds me, I need to call Jonathan."

"Who's Jonathan?" Mary called after him.

He hurried into the house and pulled out the card from his wallet bearing the realtor's name. A quick call to him confirmed that the current tenants in Evelyn's old apartment had just given notice and were, conveniently, due to leave the week before she was scheduled to complete her treatment.

"You want me to put a hold on the place for her?"

"Please," he said, "if you wouldn't mind." He could tell the other man was curious as to why Evelyn would suddenly need her own place, but he elected not to satisfy him, swiftly calling the clinic and setting up a time to call later that afternoon.

"Grandma says that we're staying another week!" Pamela exclaimed when he returned to the garden.

"That's right, are you happy about it?"

"Can we go to the museum again to see what we missed last time?"

"Uh, sure."

"Then I'm happy about it!" she squirted him playfully with her pistol. "Peter is too. He's in luuurve with Violet!"

"I am not!" Peter exclaimed, lifting the tub of water sat by the edge of the patio and throwing it at her as she ran away screaming.

"I was thinking we should ask Violet and Lily for a barbeque and to sleep over here tonight," Mary said. "The Sheehans' have been very good at accommodating Peter and Pamela over the last few days. The girls can bunk down up in the attic room with Pam."

"Long as she locks her door," he quipped. "Becoming a grandfather isn't high on my agenda right now."


	27. Chapter 27

Evelyn paced nervously in front of the phone waiting for it to ring. She had been on edge since the previous night, even more so than she had been before she had made the first call. Then she had had been in control. This time, she had to wait for him and part of her worried that he might not call at all. She had finished the letter and passed it to a member of staff to post for her, hoping that it would only take a few days to reach him. It would be so much easier having him read her thoughts rather than her trying to express them verbally.

As she continued to pace, she glanced at herself in the mirror hung on the far wall of the office. Her hair was slightly longer than she would normally wear it, but then she hadn't been too concerned with personal grooming whilst in London and, she had to admit, it made her face look slightly thinner. To her relief, however, she appeared to have lost the doughy look that she had seen reflected back at her when she first arrived, no doubt as a result of healthier food and no alcohol. She wondered what he would think when he eventually saw her again. Another four weeks and then he would be there to take her back to the city. Maybe by then, she would feel ready.

The phone rang suddenly, startling her from her thoughts and she snatched it up quickly, almost afraid he might hang up before she could answer. "Hello?"

"Hi," he said and she felt herself relax at the sound of his voice. "That was fast."

"Well I was expecting your call," she said, sitting down in the armchair. "Thank you for making it. How are you?"

"We're great, still in Detroit and...the kids are having a great time."

"What have you been doing?" she asked, pulling her legs up underneath her and listening as he told her about days at the shore, the museum and the baseball stadium and she laughed when he explained about Peter's burgeoning teen romance with Violet and how they were all going to be having a very tightly controlled sleepover that evening. "Sounds wonderful. What about you? Have you seen any old friends or...?"

He paused and she found herself holding her breath, though she wasn't altogether sure why. "I had dinner with someone last night."

"That's nice."

"Her name's Hannah. She's someone that I met at the museum when I was there with Pamela. She reversed her car into my mother's and damaged the fender. She paid for it to be repaired and...I asked her out for dinner to say thank you."

"Oh..."

She wasn't sure how to feel. That he was being so honest with her was something to be grateful for, and she was hardly in any position to comment negatively given how she had behaved in London, not to mention the fact that she had told him she could only be his friend...

"Well I hope you took her somewhere nice," she replied, as cheerfully as she could.

"We went to a local Greek restaurant," he replied. "We had a nice meal and talked...she's a widow. Her husband died last year and left her with three kids."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah..."

There was a silence and she tried to think of something to say. Something that sounded supportive...something that didn't sound accusatory...something, anything...

"So are you going to see her again?"

"I...uh...I don't think so. She...both of us have a lot going on right now so..."

"Oh, well..." she couldn't help but feel relieved. "I'm sorry."

"Are you?"

It was her turn to pause, taken aback slightly by the speed of his response. "Yes, of course. I mean...I want you to be happy."

"I see," he said and she found herself hoping against all hope that it wasn't going to turn into another conversation like the one she had had with her mother. "How are things going with you anyway?"

"Good," she replied honestly. "Therapy's going well and with the weather being so good the staff have been trying to get us all roped in to playing sports outside. Yesterday was softball and tomorrow, apparently, we're going to be playing some baseball so you can tell Peter that I'll be thinking about him." He didn't say anything. "I talked to my mother too."

"Really?"

"You sound surprised?"

"I suppose I am. How did it go?"

"Well it wasn't really my idea. My therapist, Emma, she told me it would be good to open the lines of communication with her whereas I would have been happy just to leave it until I got out of here." She paused. "It went probably as well as any conversation with my mother goes. Neither of us said much but she still managed to make me feel as though everything was my fault. I should have taken her to therapy with me while I had the chance. I'm going to have to do something though. There are so many things bubbling away inside that I've never said to her and, if I don't, they're just going to fester forever. The closest I got was Thanksgiving and that didn't go too well."

"I remember," he said. "If you do say certain things to her, how do you think she'll react?"

"Badly, but I know they need to be said for _my_ sake, not hers. If I have to cut contact with her for a while after that then so be it. I've never been able to rely on her through any of this, not emotionally anyway. If my dad was still here things might have been different but he's not so..." She took a breath. "I wrote you a letter."

He paused again, "A letter?"

"Yeah. It came about as a result of reading your journal which was...I don't know..." she struggled to find appropriate words. "It was special. I guess I felt privileged that you let me read what you had written. I guess it would have been so easy for you just to keep it to yourself."

"You've read it all?"

"Of course, more than once," she smiled. "Reading it made me feel close to you."

"Well that's...uh...I mean..."

"I wanted to write the letter to try and better explain myself and...and how I feel," she barrelled on. "I don't know if you really got what I was saying during our last conversation and...and part of me hates talking on the phone anyway..."

"I got what you were saying," he said.

"Did you?"

"You want to be friends and I can understand that. I'm here for you...as a friend."

"That's...that's good to know," she said softly.

"Speaking of which, I talked to Jonathan earlier and he told me that your old apartment is going to be vacant by the time you'll be getting out so I asked him to put a hold on it for you. I hope that's ok."

Another feeling of relief washed over her. Irrationally, she had found herself worrying about where she might end up living. She knew she could have coped with somewhere new if she'd had to, but there was no doubt that knowing she would be going somewhere familiar would help ease her anxiety at emerging back into the real world. "That's perfect, thank you. I really appreciate you doing that for me."

"It's no problem."

There was another silence.

"I got them to mail the letter today," she said, "so hopefully you should get it in a few days."

"Ah, well...we've actually decided to stay here another week," he said. "The kids have been having such a good time and, well, I've enjoyed it too..."

"Oh..." she couldn't help but feel slightly deflated. "Well, that's ok. Of course you should stay longer if you're all having fun. You can get the letter when you get home."

"Laura wasn't best pleased. She called me selfish and there was me thinking we had been getting on better of late."

"She has no right saying that," she said angrily. "After everything that's happened..."

"You know what she can be like."

"You are the least selfish person I know, Ben."

"Well...that's kind of you to say."

Down the line she could hear the sound of screams and laughter and had to remind herself that he was technically on vacation and she was keeping him from that. "I'm guessing that's the kids."

"Yeah, it sure is."

"I'd better let you go," she said reluctantly. "Thank you...for calling and, well, for everything."

"That's ok," he said. "We'll be here until next weekend so I guess I can call you again same time next week?"

"Yes, I'd like that."

"Ok then." He paused. "Take care of yourself Evelyn."

"You too Ben." Slowly she replaced the receiver and sat back in the chair, tears overwhelming her before she could understand or stop them.

XXXX

"I don't see why we can't all sleep in the same room."

Ben shook his head, "If you really can't understand why, then you're not as smart as I've been giving you credit for."

Peter looked at him angrily, "I'm not going to _do_ anything, Dad! I'm not stupid! All we'd be doing is talking and Pamela and Lily would be there too."

"And how do I explain to the Sheehans', not to mention Violet and Lily's parents, that I let my sixteen year old son sleep in the same room as their daughters? It's not about not trusting you, Peter, it's about the perception of impropriety."

"I could always just sneak up when you're sleeping," Peter said.

"My door will be ajar and I will be dozing only," Ben said. "So don't even think about it. Now, are you going to go next door and invite them? Your grandmother wants to get this barbeque started."

Muttering under his breath, Peter left the kitchen and Ben turned back to where he had started preparing the food. Oh to be sixteen again and have the fear of missing out on the midnight chat be the worst thing that could ever happen to you. It was so minute in the grand scheme of things and, as he started chopping the vegetables, he couldn't help thinking back on his phone call with Evelyn.

Hearing her voice had made his insides turn over. He had wondered, for a time, if he had perhaps been too hasty in turning Hannah down. Maybe he should have gone inside with her. Maybe he should have gone to bed with her, especially if it was only intended to satisfy a physical need. Maybe he should have gently tried to persuade her that she _could_ move on and that he was an excellent first candidate for that.

But the moment Evelyn had answered the phone he knew he had been right. Miles apart, so many problems and issues to work through and yet, she was still the one.

He hadn't know what to say when she had revealed that she had read his journal, though he wasn't quite sure why he had felt so surprised. He had given it to her for that purpose. He had known that, at some point, she was likely to look at it, but it felt strange now knowing that she was aware of what his thoughts had been, good and bad. He thought of the letter, winging its way to New York and, for a brief moment, wished he hadn't elected to stay another week. Knowing it would be lying in the box, waiting on him, was going to be torture.

"How are things going in here?" Mary asked, coming in and looking over his shoulder. "I just saw Peter heading next door."

"I told him to go and actually invite Lily and Violet before they decide they have better plans," he replied.

"Can I ask how your talk with Evelyn went?"

"Fine. I told her about Hannah."

Mary paused, "Why in God's name did you do that?"

"Because I wanted to be honest with her."

"How did she react?"

"She took it well. I told her that nothing was going to come of it so...she seemed ok with it."

"I suppose she'd have to seem ok with it," Mary started taking out dishes from the cupboards. "After all, she's hardly in a position to say anything after her own behaviour, is she?"

"Don't say it like that, Mom, ok? She wasn't well in London and I don't hold anything against her for that." He paused. "What do you mean, she'd 'have to seem ok with it?'"

"Just what I said," Mary replied. "Even if she _wasn't_ ok with it she could hardly turn around and give you a hard time about it, could she?"

Ben turned to look at her, "You think maybe she _wasn't_ ok with it?"

"How do I know?" she laughed. "I wasn't listening into your call, darling. Besides, you're the one who knows her, not me. Maybe if she _wasn't_ ok with it then she's less convinced about just being your friend than she might have led you to believe...not that I don't stand by what I said before about a step back being a good thing for both of you."

_Oh God..._

XXXX

"I _need_ to do this! I don't think you understand. I _need_ to!"

"What you need to do is try and calm down."

"I can't!" Evelyn exclaimed as she paced back and forth in front of Emma. "I can't calm down because I should have said something! I should have told him how I felt. I _should_ have told him!"

It was three hours since they had talked on the phone. Three hours since she had heard his voice and every minute since had felt like torture. She had left the office and joined some of the others in the common room to play cards, but her mind had been elsewhere. All she had been able to think about was what he had said and what he hadn't said, not to mention what she had withheld herself. In her mind she could see this Hannah person that he had spoken of, could see them together having dinner. Of course she believed him that nothing had happened or was going to come of it but the thought of him with someone else...

"Evelyn..." Emma said calmly. "What you're feeling is incredibly normal..."

"Is it?" she turned to face her. "I'm jealous! I'm jealous of the fact that he had dinner with another woman and I have no right to be! I slept with I don't know how many men in London and I'm jealous over one dinner?"

"The circumstances of all of that are different."

"Really? How?"

"You were engaging in drunken, meaningless casual sex with people that you didn't know and didn't care about. From what we've discussed in your sessions, you barely remember any of their names."

"So?"

"So, this is different. Liking someone, having dinner with them...that suggests an emotional connection, regardless of whether or not anything physically happened. Feeling the way you do about Ben it's only natural for you to feel threatened by that. Many people, men and women, could forgive a physical affair before they could forgive an emotional one."

"He said that he probably wasn't going to see her again and I believe him. I just..." she stopped pacing and took a deep breath. "I just wish I had told him how I felt rather than write it down in some stupid letter that he's not even going to read for at least another week! I need to call him. I _need_ to tell him!"

"And what happens when you do?" Emma asked. "How is he likely to react?"

"Well given that he seemed upset when I told him before that I just wanted to be friends, I'd like to think he'd be happy if I told him I'd changed my mind."

"Ok, so you tell him, he's happy and you declare undying love to each other over the phone. Then you hang up and, what, wait on tenterhooks until you can call him again?"

"Probably..."

"And in the meantime your focus shifts from your own recovery to him. You find yourself not concentrating in sessions. You spend all your time thinking about him and what you're going to say to him next time you see him and how good it's going to feel when you can actually touch him again...and before you know where you are you're waving goodbye to us and throwing yourself into his arms in the parking lot."

Evelyn stared at her, "And what is so wrong with that if it makes us both happy?"

Emma leaned forward in her chair. "Because nothing will have really changed. You'll go back to the same relationship that you had with him before. You'll be comfortable and you'll slip into old patterns. You won't go to therapy, you'll be dependent on him and although it'll all seem great for a while, the demons _will_ come back and you won't know how to deal with them."

"That's bullshit."

"Is it? Why do you think the program here is eight weeks long? Why do you think it's not just, say, thirty days? It's because research shows that you can't have all the strategies in place to make a full recovery within such a short space of time. Why do you think so many people relapse after thirty days and find themselves back again and again and again?"

"I'm not stupid," Evelyn replied. "But there are people here on their third and fourth attempts, so eight weeks isn't some sort of magic number." She started pacing again. "I haven't thought about drinking in ages and Eddie...he's not always there you know. Ben helped me before and I know that if I could just tell him how I feel..."

Emma paused again. "I know you said that nothing appeared to have happened with this girl Hannah, but are you worried that if you don't tell him how you feel that he might find someone else in the next four weeks?"

"Yes!"

"Even though in the ten years between divorcing his wife and meeting you there was only one other brief relationship?"

"That doesn't mean anything..."

"Doesn't it? If Ben was sitting here now instead of you telling me about his relationship history, I would be telling him that he was obviously a person who cares deeply about other people. A person who doesn't just fall into relationships for the hell of it. I would be telling him that he clearly thinks very hard before opening himself up to someone and the fact he told you that he most likely wasn't going to see Hannah again would tend to support that." Emma paused. "I think it very unlikely that anything untoward is going to happen in the next four weeks, Evelyn. I can't stop you from telling him how you feel in your next phone call, but I would caution against it."

Evelyn shook her head, "I feel as though I've spent my life being cautious. I didn't leave Eddie when I should have because I was afraid and I also assumed it might, somehow, get better. I've never told my mother how I really feel because I've been afraid of the backlash I might get from her. I held off telling Ben that I was pregnant because I was afraid about what he might say...part of me is so fucking sick of being cautious. I want to live!"

"I know," Emma nodded slowly. "And you will. I promise."

XXXX

"I'm sorry Ben, I'm afraid I can't let you speak to her right now."

Ben kicked the bottom stair and tried to remain calm. "I appreciate that I've already spoken to her today and I understand about the rules..."

"Then you understand that it's just not possible," Harry said. "Everyone's having dinner at the moment and then Evelyn has a group session. It's her first one since she arrived and I'm anxious not to allow anything to upset her."

"I'm not going to upset her. I just need to talk to her for two minutes, that's all."

"I'm sorry, no."

"I thought you were supposed to be encouraging her to maintain contact out with the centre."

"And we do, once a week until the last week of treatment when contact is unrestricted. I know that it's frustrating for you, it is for everybody, but you'll be able to talk to her again next Friday as planned."

Ben paused, a crazy thought entering his head. "If I come there...if I visit, can I see her?"

"No, I'm sorry. Contact is strictly via phone only."

"Even if it was just for five minutes?"

"Ben..." Harry sighed. "Has something happened? Was something said during your call with Evelyn that has concerned you? Is there something that you think we should know about?"

"Like what?"

"Well, did she say anything that might make you worry about her safety, for example?"

"No, no nothing like that. I just..."

"Then I'm sorry," Harry said firmly. "You can talk to her again next week."

"Fine!" He slammed the phone down and kicked the stair again just as Pamela came in from the garden.

"Dad, can you help us? We've managed to get Lily's ball stuck up in the tree and we can't reach it. Peter wanted to use the ladder but Grandma said that we had to get you." She paused and peered at him. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," he replied shortly.

"Are you sure?"

"I said I'm fine!" She looked at him wide-eyed and he immediately felt remorseful. Whatever was going on it was hardly her fault. "I'm sorry," he said, stepping forward and pulling her into his arms for a hug. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

"That's ok," she replied, pulling back and looking up at him. "Everyone's allowed to be grumpy sometimes, right?"

"Right." He kissed her forehead, forcing himself into the here and now rather than the what might be. There would be time enough for that again later. "Let's go get that ball."


	28. Chapter 28

**August 1994**

**Six days later**

Ben watched as fat droplets of water ran down the living room window and the rain battered the ground outside. Having enjoyed so much good weather, it had been disheartening to see the blue skies replaced with dull grey, darkening over time, the relentless humidity a sign that change was coming. And come it had that morning when the thunder had started crashing and the heavens had opened to release a torrent of rain the likes of which he hadn't seen in years, despite living in New York which often saw its own fair share of showers.

Peter and Pamela had been dismayed by the turn of events and he had needed to be firm and told them they were _not_ going out on their bikes in this weather and that they could just content themselves in the house. Mary had dug out some old video cassettes and they were both currently sitting on the couch, drinking lemonade, watching _Bugsy Malone._

He wondered whether it was raining in Barryville or whether the good weather had remained and Evelyn was still out playing softball and baseball as she had told him. In the six days since he had last spoken to her, he had called the center three more times each time hoping that he might get through to a member of staff who didn't know that he had already had his weekly conversation with her. But either they were all very much on top of each patient's contact plan or Harry had them all well warned as each time he had been politely dismissed and told to call back on Friday. Glancing at his watch, he made it ten hours until Friday, though something told him that a call at one minute past midnight probably wouldn't be welcomed.

It was all eating away at him, much more than he could have imagined. The seed of doubt that his mother had planted in his mind the previous week had taken root and started to grow and sometimes, when he couldn't sleep, he had visions of Evelyn trying to break out of the center and get to him. Then he had to remind himself that he had no idea whether or not what he was thinking was correct. Perhaps he was simply attributing things to her that he wanted to be true. Perhaps she _was_ still truly of the mindset that they should be friends and nothing else. Perhaps she really had been ok with him having dinner with Hannah. The only way to find out for sure was to ask her and he couldn't do that for at least another ten hours.

"Do you want some lemonade?" Mary asked, sticking her head around the door.

"No thanks," he replied, turning away from the window and wandering out of the living room and back into the kitchen where she was beginning to make preparations for that night's dinner. She moved around the kitchen more slowly than he remembered and he suddenly felt as though he had perhaps been expecting too much from her."Why don't we eat out tonight?"

"In this weather?"

"It might brighten up in a few hours."

"Or it might get worse. The report on the radio said we could be in for hurricane winds later tonight. Besides, I need to use up this chicken or it'll have to go in the garbage and you know how I hate to waste food."

"I know," he smiled. "Well, as long as the weather doesn't affect our flight on Saturday I guess we can handle it."

She turned to look at him. "Suddenly eager to get home?"

"No, just...I figured we've imposed on your hospitality long enough."

"Nonsense, I've loved having you. You need to come out and see me more often. The kids have certainly enjoyed themselves. You could always send them out on their own sometime too."

"Oh I don't know about that," he sat down at the table. "They can be a handful."

"Rubbish, they're teenagers not toddlers and I'm not over the hill yet," she waved a wooden spoon at him. "Mind you, what would Laura say?"

"I have no idea," he replied honestly. "Sometimes I think we're doing good and other times it's like being right back at the time of our divorce." He shook his head thinking about the conversation he had had with her a few days earlier. Peter and Pamela had called to talk to her and, after they had finished, Peter had said that she wanted to talk to him. The conversation had been slightly tense and she had told him that she thought it would be a good idea to discuss a revised schedule before the start of the school year as every other weekend wasn't really working for her. When he had asked her what she would suggest, given that the kids were in full time education and she lived over two hours away, she hadn't been able to come up with anything and he could only surmise that the conversation had less to do with her really wanting to change the schedule and everything to do with him hanging the phone up on her the previous week without letting her conclude her insult.

"No sign of her finding someone else?" Mary asked.

"No, not since she got rid of Mark."

"Shame...perhaps all these issues would be sorted if she was happy in a relationship."

"Perhaps," he agreed, "but I think she's still bitter about a lot of things."

"Like what?"

"Historically, the reasons why we separated in the first place...my putting work before her and the kids. More recently, me taking the kids, I guess."

"I thought you said that one of the last times you were up there she told you that you were a good father blah, blah, blah."

"She did but...I don't know. I'm never quite sure how to take her. I'd be perfectly happy if she met someone decent, so long as they were good to her and the kids. Anyway, they'll be going up to stay with her from Saturday and it's flexible how long for so she won't be able to complain."

"But she still will?"

"More than likely."

Mary shook her head, "You know...when she first gave up work altogether, after Pam was born, I did tell her that I thought it was a mistake."

Ben looked at her, "You did?"

"Yes. I told her that she should at least work part time, keep her hand in so that she could always go back full time once the kids were at school. But she wanted to play homemaker so..."

"But you didn't work when we were kids."

"That's true, but it was a different time then. Isn't that what you keep telling Peter and Pamela when they want to do things you did? It wasn't the thing for women to work once they were married and had children and your father was very old fashioned, as you know. But it was different for you and Laura. It was the eighties. She could have worked if she'd wanted to. It might have given her something else to focus on."

"It was still kind of unusual, even then." He suddenly thought back to one of the first conversations he and Evelyn had ever had about their personal lives when he had told her that Laura hadn't worked after the children came along. It was the night they had gone to _Fornelli's_ for dinner, the night that they had inexplicably kissed on the sidewalk. "I didn't encourage her to go back to work either, though I thought she might after we separated. I guess her parents must help subsidise her. Lord knows she couldn't live on spousal support alone."

"Well, what's done is done," Mary said practically. "You couldn't change it now even if you wanted to.

"No," he replied as the sound of his children bickering floated in from the direction of the living room, "and I guess I wouldn't want to."

XXXX

Group therapy was certainly interesting. It was strange suddenly being sat in a room with people that you might say hello to in a corridor or comment on the weather to, or even play softball with and listen to them talk about their problems. She had learned more about her fellow patients in the last few days than she felt she had in the last five weeks and, rightly or wrongly, she found herself grading people by the severity of their problems.

Ellen, a woman in her forties, had been held up at gunpoint whilst working at a gas station and appeared to have developed some sort of post traumatic psychosis as a result. She got a high grade. Olivia, mid-twenties, had been raped at a party and become an alcoholic as a result of the repressed trauma. She got a high grade too. Five time Rose apparently came from a wealthy family, with no horrendous backstory that she had so far admitted to, but had been a habitual drug user for years, in and out of rehab and seemingly unable to kick the habit. As nice as she appeared to be and although Evelyn knew she had no right to judge anyone, she couldn't help but give her a slightly lower grade.

She wondered if they all did the same and, if so, what grade she would get. Harry took the sessions and he encouraged everyone to be open and honest about their feelings and their experiences and she had to admit that she had found it hard. She had talked a little about her marriage to Edward and the things he had done to her, her miscarriages and she had even mentioned the shooting and the loss of the baby. Some of them had looked at her in shock, others with a trace of disbelief. But whilst she had admitted her alcohol use and been able to identify the reasons why, she hadn't been able to admit to her other behaviour.

She didn't want these women that she didn't even know and likely would never see again to think that she was a slut, so maybe she was scared of a low grade too.

As the current session came to an end, Harry asked her to hang back, which she did, until the others had left, then he gestured for her to sit back down on the couch. "How are things going?"

"Fine," she replied.

"Emma says that you've made great strides in your individual therapy."

"I suppose so."

"You don't think so?"

"No, I do it's just..." she broke off, thinking about the conversation she and Emma had had the previous week and how much time she had spent thinking about Ben since their phone call. "I guess sometimes it feels like one step forward and two steps back."

"That's normal," Harry nodded. "And it doesn't magically stop feeling like that when you leave here either. That's why it's important to take the tools that you learn in therapy and understand how to apply them in life." He paused. "How are you finding the group sessions?"

"Ok. A little eye-opening, I guess."

"It can be overwhelming sometimes to realise that other people have had similar problems, or indeed different ones. The purpose is to let you understand that you're not alone but also to encourage you to feel that you shouldn't have to keep secrets. That whether you tell people in your life about what's happened to you in the past is a decision that _you_ make for yourself, not because you feel constrained about what other people might think."

She knew what he was getting at. "You think I haven't opened up enough?"

"I think you've done very well so far, but I also think that you need to consider sharing everything. Being able to talk about something painful is often the first step to accepting it."

"I'm not convinced I _do_ accept it, maybe that's the problem."

"You're selling yourself short there. You've been able to discuss it with Emma which is great, but why do you feel you can't share it with others?"

She paused, "Because I'm ashamed, I guess. Because I think everyone else will judge me...like I suppose I judge them."

Harry smiled, "But isn't that just life? Don't we all judge everyone for one thing or another?"

"I suppose so...I guess there's just something about a woman admitting to casual sex that still...I don't know...raises people's eyebrows. I remember feeling the same way when I had to testify about my sex life with Eddie during his trial." She shuddered slightly at the memory of everyone watching her, of Ben watching her, as she had recounted what their life together had been like.

"At the end of the day, whose opinion really matters? Our own and the people that we love." He looked at her. "You've already told the person you love the most about what you were doing in London, haven't you?" She nodded. "And he hasn't judged you, has he?"

"No," she admitted, "anything but."

"Then you've already overcome one of the biggest hurdles. The next one is learning not to judge yourself too harshly for the things that you've done. It might sound trite, but you need to own your behaviour and your choices."

"I need to love myself before I can love anybody else?" she smiled ruefully.

He nodded, "Exactly."

XXXX

Friday dawned much as Thursday had waned. The sky was still grey, the rain was still falling and the wind was still shaking the trees. Once again, he had barely slept, lying in bed listening to the sounds of the weather and thinking about Evelyn. He had played their prospective call over and over in his mind. What he would say, how he would say it, what he would ask...and every time it came out differently. He in no way wanted to undermine her treatment but he sometimes felt as though he needed to be brutally honest with her and in some of his scenarios, he bulldozed right in and asked her straight out whether or not she was still in love with him and what she envisioned for them long term. In others, he led into it more gently, fully aware that he had no idea what she was even thinking or feeling. Sometimes he thought he should say nothing at all and wait until he read her letter. He couldn't help but think that that would be the most sensible thing to do and yet...

Breakfast was a fairly sombre affair, Peter and Pamela, aware that it was their last full day and annoyed that they couldn't spend time outside in the rain, but they soon brightened up when Mrs Sheehan called to ask if they wanted to go over to spend the day at their house and after throwing food down their throats and hurrying to get dressed, they had left the house in a chorus of goodbyes whilst slamming the door behind them. His mother had said that she wanted to take the opportunity to get on with some housework and though he had offered to help her, she had waved him away and told him to occupy himself. He had been desperate to call the center to speak to Evelyn, but had followed the rules, called only to ask what time would be suitable and was told to call back at two o'clock.

On a whim, he decided to head down to the main Detroit Public Library, somewhere where he remembered spending many happy hours as a child wandering the aisles and looking through the books. The building itself was rather grand too and though as a youngster he had never fully appreciated it, he found himself marvelling at the architecture before finding a quiet spot and leafing through some journals. It was surprisingly quiet and everyone walked around almost on tiptoes, their voices hushed as though afraid of stirring some sleeping literary god.

Before he knew where the time had gone, it was almost lunchtime and, with his stomach starting to growl, he made his way back towards the entrance only to turn a corner and literally bump into a familiar face.

"Oh, hello," Hannah said, recovering herself.

"Hello," he replied. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."

She laughed. "I guess we're kind of even now. I run into your mother's car, you run into me...how are you?"

"I'm good, how are you?"

"Fine," she glanced over his shoulder and he turned to see two young children chasing each other a few feet away and laughing louder than he imagined was allowed.

"Yours I take it?"

"For my sins," she shook her head. "Keeping them entertained in this weather is hard work. Jay, my eldest, was happy to stay at home and watch television but these two...they're a different story altogether. I'm guessing you don't have that problem with your two."

"No they're quite happily occupied with the neighbour's grandkids," he replied. "I was the one feeling restless and I haven't been here for years so I thought I'd take the chance to come down and take another look."

"It's certainly something isn't it?" Hannah followed his gaze to the ceiling.

"Yeah, it is."

"Listen, Ben..." she moved closer to him and lowered her voice. "I didn't think I'd see you again but now that I have, I wanted to apologise for what I said in the car that night. I shouldn't have suggested that you come inside it was...I don't know...an impulse..." she trailed off and shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"You didn't," he reassured her. "A different time, a different place..."

"Oh yes, of course..." she blushed slightly as he glanced at his watch. "I'm sorry, I'm keeping you from something..."

"No no, I'm...uh...I'm just...I've got an important call to make this afternoon and uh..."

"It's fine," she smiled. "It was nice to see you again anyway."

"You too," he replied, watching as she moved past him and attempted to round up her slightly unruly children and herd them towards the main library. Then he turned and headed for the door, moving faster, as though somehow seeing Hannah had reinforced what he needed to do, what he needed to say.

_I'm going to tell you. I'm going to tell you what you already know; that I love you._

_I need you to tell me how you feel, how you_ really _feel._

The traffic was slightly heavier than it had been earlier and, as he joined the freeway, the rain was making visibility increasingly difficult. Not that that was stopping some drivers who seemed hell bent on travelling at the very tip of the speed limit and beyond, despite the appalling conditions. He kept to the inside lane, pacing the car in front, waiting until the right exit came into sight up ahead. The clock on the dashboard proclaimed that it was almost one o'clock. By the time he got back to the house it would soon be time to call Evelyn, to hear her voice, to ask her for the truth. Maybe he would just ask her to recite, as best she could, the content of her letter. Maybe that would be easier for her.

He crawled to the exit and was then able to pick up some speed once down onto the side roads, although he still took his time. The last thing they all needed was for him to have some kind of accident and end up in the hospital. When he got back to the house, he dived out of the car and inside, shaking the excess water from his jacket before hanging it up behind the door and listening to the silence that greeted him.

"Hello?" he called, wandering into the kitchen and flicking on the kettle. There was no response. The kids would still be next door and his mother was most like upstairs dusting and unable to hear him. He waited for the kettle to boil, poured the water into the teapot his mother favoured and then lifted an apple from the fruit bowl, biting into it as he headed for the stairs. "Mom?" He climbed to the first floor to find the rooms tidied but empty and, assuming she could be no other place than Pamela's room, turned for the last flight of stairs. "Mom, I'm back. I've made tea, do you want some?"

To his surprise, there was no answer.

The door to Pamela's room was ajar and, as he pushed it open all the way, he suddenly dropped the apple onto the floor at the sight of his mother lying prostrate in the corner.

XXXX

She didn't know how to feel.

He hadn't called.

Maybe it was a good thing Emma had talked her down the previous week. If she hadn't, she more than likely would have gone for the phone and might have made a fool of herself, blurting out that she still loved him when he perhaps...possibly...no longer felt the same.

"You fucked it up," she muttered to herself as she made her way back to her room after sitting for a fruitless half hour waiting for the phone to ring. "You fucked it up by teling hiim you could only be friends and now he's going to read that letter when her gets home tomorrow and he's going to think you're crazy..."

_Maybe he's with Hannah._

She flopped down onto her bed, closed her eyes and tried to push that thought from her mind. Maybe he was and maybe he wasn't. After all, it wasn't really any of her business anyway. She couldn't stop him being attracted to other women and she couldn't stop him acting upon it. She was in no position to dictate anything.

Three weeks. It was only another three weeks until she would be free and then...

Rolling over onto her back she looked up at the ceiling, her eyes tracking a small spider as it slowly made its way from one side of the room to the other, stopping every so often as though taking stock before continuing its journey.

"You can't be dependent on him for your happiness," she recited, feeling a stray trickle of water run down her cheek. "You can only depend on _you_. You have to love yourself before you can love him."


	29. Chapter 29

"My God, is your mother alright?"

"She's fine as far as can be expected," Ben replied, rubbing his hand over his eyes. "The doctor said it was just a mild attack but they want to keep her in for a few days just to make sure that they haven't missed anything."

"I'm so sorry," Laura sighed. "Please give her my best wishes."

"Thanks, I will."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Yes, actually there is," he replied. "I've changed the kids' flights and they'll be landing at Hartford tomorrow just before noon. Could you pick them up and take them back to your place? They wanted to stay here but I've told them that it's not really appropriate."

"Of course. They must have got quite a shock too."

"They did." He closed his eyes thinking back to the ambulance screaming down the street and stopping outside, the paramedics jumping out and Peter and Pamela racing in from next door. "They were pretty upset but they've calmed down a bit now."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to stay here a few more days, another week possibly, just to see her out of the hospital and hopefully back on her feet. I called Carole and she's flying up tomorrow."

"Well that's good, but how _are_ you?"

He paused, thinking on the question. He felt as though the adrenaline hadn't stopped pounding from the moment that he had found his mother unconscious right up to the present time. Now that things seemed calmer, more stable, he suddenly felt exhausted. "I'm ok," he said finally.

"You need to take care of yourself too," she warned him. "Your mother would be the first one to say it."

"I know," he replied, "you're right. I'll call you tomorrow night just to make sure the kids are ok."

"Ok."

"Thanks for doing this."

"Of course, it's no problem. Tell them I'll see them soon."

"I will." He hung up the phone, dug in his pocket for some more quarters and lifted the receiver again, taking a deep breath as he did so. This was a call he wasn't looking forward to making and he could only hope that she would understand why he had missed his earlier slot. All thought of talking to her had gone right of his head the moment he had seen his mother lying on the floor and it had only been once she was at the hospital and being assessed that he realised he had forgotten to make the call.

_She'll understand. You know she will._

As the phone rang out in Barryville, he glanced at his watch and saw that it was after eight. Harry answered on the fourth ring. "Harry, it's Ben Stone."

"Ben...It's good to hear from you. I've been concerned. Evelyn told me that you didn't manage to call her earlier."

"I had an emergency. My mother had a heart attack and she had to be rushed to hospital. I...there was too much going on..." Even though it was a pretty decent excuse, he still felt like shit saying it.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Is she going to be alright?"

"They want to keep her in for a few days but apart from that, they think that she's going to be fine."

"Well that's encouraging at least."

"Yes it is." He paused, waiting to see if the other man would offer, but he didn't. "I know it's late, but I was hoping that I could talk to Evelyn."

Harry paused. "I'm sorry, it's just not possible right now. She's in a session."

"Well, afterwards then. If you tell me when to call back I will..."

"The session doesn't finish until nine and we don't permit calls that late," he replied. "Why don't you give me a ring tomorrow morning and we can set something up for you to maybe speak to her later this weekend?"

"No, I..." Ben closed his eyes, not wanting to get into a fight with the man, but finding the endless rules and regulations unbelievably stifling. Now that the events of the day had, to an extent, calmed down he really wanted...needed...to hear her voice. "I'd really rather talk to her now."

"I understand that, but you know that's not how things work. We have to advise her in advance and it's just not possible this evening."

"Please."

"I'm sorry, Ben, I really am," Harry said genuinely. "I'm happy to pass on your reasons for not calling once Evelyn's finished with her session and I've no doubt that she'll understand, but I can't let you talk to her this evening."

"Fine," he said shortly. "What time can I call tomorrow then?"

"Give me a ring first thing and we'll set something up, alright?"

He sighed, "Ok."

"Goodnight Ben."

"Goodnight." He fought the urge to slam the receiver down and instead placed it gently back in its cradle, stepping back from the booth and turning in the direction of his mother's room. After being assessed in the ER she had been moved up to the cardiac ward and, as he approached the door, his eyes fell first to the monitor displaying her heart rate, the lines going up and down, the beeping sound rhythmic and relentless.

Peter and Pamela were sat on either side of her bed, holding her hands, and they all looked up when he came in.

"Did you talk to Mom?" Peter asked.

"Yes. She's going to pick you up from the airport tomorrow."

Pamela pouted slightly. "Can't we just stay?"

"No," he sighed, "we've been over this a hundred times, Pam. You and Peter are flying to Hartford to stay with your mother."

"But..."

"I said no!" he snapped. "How many times do I need to repeat it?!" Her face fell and she ducked her head. Immediately he felt cowed. None of what was happening was their fault. "I'm sorry. It's been a long day and...and there's been a lot going on." Reaching into his pocket he pulled out some bills and handed them to Peter. "Why don't you two go down to the cafeteria and get a snack. I'll sit with your grandmother for a bit and then we'll head on back to the house, ok?" Peter got to his feet but Pamela remained seated, her face still half hidden by her hair. "Pam?" She looked up and he saw tears hovering in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped."

She nodded and then got to her feet, following her brother out of the room and over towards the elevators. He watched them until they had stepped into the car then turned back to where Mary was watching him.

"They're good kids," she said softly.

"I know," he agreed, sitting down. "I didn't mean to shout."

"You've had a difficult afternoon."

" _I've_ had a difficult afternoon?" he leaned forward and took her hand in his. "I think you've had it worse than me."

"I'll be fine. You don't need to stay, Ben, honestly you don't."

"I'll just stay for a few minutes until you're ready to go to sleep then I'll take the kids home."

"I meant that you don't need to stay here. You should catch your flight home tomorrow as planned."

"Don't be silly," he said, "and leave you here? What kind of son would that make me?"

"You said that your sister was coming in tomorrow..."

"And so she is and I want to be here to see her, not to mention make sure that you're going to be ok." He rubbed her hand gently. "You gave us all quite a scare."

"I know," Mary sighed, "and I'm sorry for that."

"You don't have to be sorry. It wasn't your fault." He paused, thinking for the hundredth time how grateful he was that she was going to be alright and how close he felt he had come to losing her. "I'm just glad that things didn't turn out for the worst."

She squeezed his hand, "Well if it _had_ been my final hour I'd have been able to say that I had enjoyed my last few days. Spending this time with you and the children has been wonderful. I'm sorry that they're leaving tomorrow."

"I know, but it's the best thing..."

"I understand," she reassured him. "And they need to spend some time with their mother too." She paused. "Did you manage to talk to Evelyn?"

"Uh...no," he replied honestly. "She was in a session so I've to call back tomorrow. They said they'd explain to her why I didn't call earlier though. I'd hate to think that she might believe it was a deliberate omission on my part."

"There's no way she could possibly think that. She knows you care about her too much to do that to her."

"I hope so," he sighed, "I really hope so."

XXXX

"I had a call from Ben."

"Oh yes?" Evelyn folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe of her room, trying to appear nonchalant, trying to express that she wasn't all that concerned as to why he hadn't called when, deep down, her insides were still churning with anixiety.

Harry nodded, "Apparently his mother suffered a heart attack and he had to rush her to hospital."

"Oh my God..."

"He said that she's going to be fine, that it was only a mild attack, and that he's sorry he let you down."

"No, I mean...poor Ben..." Every negative feeling she had had towards his lack of communication flew away at the revelation of the truth and she felt bad for having doubted him. "He must be feeling wretched..."

_And you're not there. You're not there to help him, to comfort him..._

"He wanted to talk to you but I explained to him that you were in a session and we agreed that he'd call back tomorrow to set up a new time."

Evelyn opened her mouth to declare that she would have happily been pulled out of the session to speak to him, then thought better of it and simply nodded. Admitting that she would have rather heard his voice than her own might make them think that she wasn't putting her own wellbeing first. "Yes, of course, I understand..."

"I told him that you would," Harry smiled, patting her on the shoulder. "Get some rest."

"I will, thank you." As he disappeared back down the corridor, she stepped back into her room and closed the door before sinking down onto the bed, her mind whirring. She knew how close he had grown to his mother again and how much he valued her wisdom. Being faced with her mortality must have been earth-shattering for him, not to mention for the kids...

It would be the wrong time to say anything to him and, if he was intending staying on longer in Detroit then it would be another few days, maybe even weeks until he read her letter. Perhaps it was better that way. Her feelings weren't what he needed to be thinking about right now. He needed to focus on his mother, Peter, Pamela and himself.

There would be time for her later.

XXXX

The bad weather had cleared by the following morning and Peter and Pamela were able to board their flight with no difficulty. It had been hard, far harder than he had actually imagined, saying goodbye to them at security. They had both hugged him, long and tight, and he could tell when he looked into their faces that they were worried.

"Everything is going to be fine," he had reassured them as their flight was called. "I'm going to make sure that your grandmother gets home alright and your Aunt Carol's flying in and as soon as I think that everything's under control, I'll fly home."

"What about us?" Pamela had asked.

"When I get home I'll drive up and collect you," he promised. "And I'll call you every night and let you know how things are, ok?"

They had reluctantly accepted his promises and he had felt a terrible lump in his throat watching them walk away from him, far greater than he had ever felt before. It would be strange being there without them...strange being anywhere without them. They had become such an intrinsic part of his day to day life.

Carole's flight hadn't been due to arrive for another hour so he had bought himself a coffee and a newspaper and sat down to wait on the board flashing up that she had landed before making his way to the arrivals lounge. She was one of the first people off of the plane and, as she hurried towards him, he felt a keen sense of solidarity, something he hadn't felt in a long time.

"You look like hell," she greeted him, hugging him to her. "Not that I blame you." Pulling back, she put her hand on his chin and moved his face critically one way and then another. "And you look too thin."

"Nice to see you too," he joked and she promptly burst into tears. Arm in arm they made their way out towards the parking lot, him retelling the events of the previous day for what seemed like the hundredth time, his sister occasionally letting out small gasps of horror. "But she's doing really well," he concluded. "You'll be surprised how good she looks."

"I feel awful," Carole said. "I should have come out to visit earlier this summer. How can it take something like this happening to bring me home?"

"Well...I guess that makes two of us."

"You were already here, thank God! What if you hadn't been? What if she had been home alone and this had happened?"

"Well she wasn't, so stop catastrophising," he squeezed her shoulder. "Besides, you have a home, a husband, kids _and_ a job in Montana. Mom understands that."

"You have all the same things in New York," she reminded him. "Well, except a husband, unless there's something you've been keeping from me."

He laughed and opened the car door for her. The drive to the hospital took around twenty minutes and he watched out of the corner of his eye as his sister took in the sights, much as he himself had done a few weeks earlier. "Lot of things have changed huh?"

"Yep..." she nodded. "Lot of things look the same too. I can't believe it's been...what...seven years since I've been back here? To think that Mom has always done all the travelling..."

"She seemed to enjoy it."

"I suppose she did but that probably hasn't helped."

Ben shook his head. "The doctor said that the heart attack was just one of those things that happen sometimes. There wasn't anything we, or she, could have done to prevent it."

"I know," Carole nodded, "I know that Ben but she's our mother and it doesn't make me feel any better knowing that I'm living thousands of miles away when she's not getting any younger." She sighed. "I was talking to Mitch last night and I said to him that I thought I should ask Mom if she wants to come and live with us."

"In Wyoming?" Ben asked, swinging the car into the hospital parking lot.

"Yes of course in Wyoming, where else? She's not getting any younger and with the boys having moved out for university we've got plenty of room..." she turned to look at him as he stopped in a space. "What do you think?"

"I think it's a nice idea..."

"So do I."

"But I think she'll say no."

"Why for God's sake?!"

"Because she's independent enough to want to do things her own way and she's lived on her own for a long time now..."

"So nothing should ever change?" Carole demanded. "Everything should always stay the same? Come on Ben you don't believe that any more than I do. Mom needs someone there to keep an eye on her and me living in Wyoming, you living in New York and her living here just isn't sustainable anymore!"

He shook his head at her lovingly, "Are you this passionate in front of your students?"

"Are you this passionate in front of your juries? Oh wait, you don't do that anymore because you made a _change_." She looked at him. "I want you to back me on this. Please."

"Why don't we let Mom decide, ok?"

"Fine," she unclipped her seatbelt. "But you know she's always listened to you far more than she's ever listened to me."

XXXX

After a fleeting cool spell, the weather had turned warm again and morning found Evelyn out in the extensive grounds of the center playing a particularly intense game of volleyball. She was certainly no professional when it came to the game but there was definitely something about team sports that brought out a competitive streak in her. It reminded her of being back in college when she had had friends and they had done things that normal young people did.

Back in the days before work and responsibility and marriage...

The exertion of the game, not to mention the heat, meant that she was sweating profusely before too long and though she was enjoying putting her energies into something physical, she was glad when the game was called to a halt and water and fruit were passed round. As she drank greedily from her bottle, she caught sight of Harry standing on the periphery and he motioned to her to join him.

"I spoke to Ben again," he said when she reached him. "He's going to call this afternoon at four-thirty."

"Ok," she nodded, feeling both relieved and slightly anxious at the same time. "Did he sound ok or...?"

"He sounded fine," he reassured her, "and he apologised again for what happened yesterday."

_Oh Ben, you don't have to apologise. Not for that._

"He can be good at hiding how he really feels sometimes. I should know."

Harry nodded, "Just remember everything that you've been learning in your sessions. Yes, this must be a difficult time for him and yes, of course you can sympathise, but don't let this derail you."

"It's surely not derailing for me to want to help him."

"Of course not, but your own wellbeing has to come first right now. We don't want you to backslide, not when you've come so far."

Evelyn watched him walk away, her head swimming with mixed emotions. Of course she was concerned with her own wellbeing. Wasn't that something they drummed into her again and again, almost like a cult mantra? But she knew him well enough to know that he would be hurting, hurting over something that, for once, hadn't been caused by her, something that she could help him with without feeling guilty.

The second half of the game was as intense as the first and when it had finished and she was standing in a cool shower freshening up before lunch she found herself swinging back on what she had told herself the previous evening. Maybe it was exactly the right time to tell him how she really felt. Maybe she shouldn't wait.

_God...it's so confusing..._

She closed her eyes and let the water batter down on her head. She wouldn't decide until she heard his voice.

She would know then what to do.


	30. Chapter 30

"No, no and no again."

"Mom..."

"Carole, I know you mean well but I have lived in this city all of my life, been married here, raised a family here and I intend to die here. As lovely as your home in Wyoming is it's not _my_ home so you can save your breath."

Ben tried and failed to hide a smile as he looked between his mother and his sister. He had been right about Mary's views about Carole's suggestion. She had barely had the idea out of her mouth before his mother had roundly jumped on it and quashed it in one fell swoop.

"Well I'm glad you find it amusing," Carole said, catching sight of his mirth.

"I did try to tell you."

"So the pair of you have been cooking this up behind my back?" Mary said indignantly.

"Hardly," Ben replied. "Carole mentioned the idea in the car on the way from the airport and I told her that you wouldn't be keen."

"Mom, I'm only suggesting it because I'm worried about you," Carole sighed. "When Ben called and told me what had happened I couldn't help but think that it might not have happened if you'd been living with me."

"Ben was right here," Mary pointed out, "and it still happened so I think your logic is a little flawed darling. I'm grateful for the offer and I'm very touched but the answer is still no. You both have your own lives to lead. I've had mine."

"Oh don't say that," Carole shuddered.

"It's true. I've been very lucky to last as long as I have. The two of you are still relatively young with your own families to consider. I don't want you wasting too much time worrying about me."

"How can we not worry?" Ben chimed in. "You're our mother."

"Yes and you're a father and you're a mother," Mary replied. "Your children are far more important than I am. So, you both might as well get on planes back to your respective cities."

"I just got here!" Carole protested.

"I'm not leaving until I know that you're alright," Ben added.

"So I'm stuck with the pair of you then?"

"Something like that," Ben said. "We'll stay at the house until you're back on your feet and then, once we're happy that you're going to be alright we'll leave you alone if that's what you want."

"Do I have any choice?"

He smiled at her again, "No, you don't."

XXXX

Evelyn had tried to listen to all the advice that Emma had given her over the course of her personal sessions. She had tried to understand where the other woman was coming from when she counselled her to take things slowly, to care about herself, to think about the consequences of each action and whilst, most of the time, she could understand and agree with what was being said, when it came to her mother she was finding it difficult.

Susan had been on the phone for almost ten minutes already and the conversation had revolved completely around her and the latest gossip from her book club or bridge night. Evelyn had listened patiently to tales of what so-and so's daughter was doing or about how so-and-so's son was getting married. They were people she didn't know, didn't care about and yet her mother expected her to hum and haw and agree with her at every turn. It felt far more exhausting than it surely needed to be and she had been about to interrupt her mother's flow when conversation had suddenly switched to Sarah.

"She told me to tell you that she was asking for you," Susan said. "Poor Sarah, I really think all of this has hit her very hard."

Evelyn bit her tongue, "Oh yes?"

"Yes. Every time I talk to her she sounds so maudlin. You know, Patricia told me the other day that she's seriously concerned about the state of her marriage."

"Sarah's marriage?"

"Yes, who else? Apparently, she and Nick have been doing a lot of fighting since you left London."

"Fighting about me?"

"Oh I didn't ask for the intimate details, it just didn't seem polite. But Patricia felt that it would be a miracle if they were still together come Christmas."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Evelyn said, genuinely upset at the thought of the end of her cousin's marriage. "Maybe I should call her. I haven't spoken to her since I got here."

"I think you should," Susan said. "After all, you _do_ owe her an apology."

Evelyn paused at her mother's words. "Do I?"

"Of course you do! All the worry you must have given her with...well...whatever it was that you were getting up to, especially as she had been good enough to make all the arrangements for you to go there in the first place. Patricia said that apparently, a lot of good clients were let down when you left."

_Now isn't the time...it really isn't the time..._

"And what about the apology you owe me?"

The words were out before she could stop herself and, in the silence that followed, she wondered whether or not she had done the right thing. Face to face would be better and yet, somehow hidden by distance, she felt a confidence that she doubted she would feel if they were in the same room.

"I don't understand what you mean," Susan said. "What apology do I owe you?"

"You owe me..." she paused, hearing her voice waver slightly. "You owe me an apology for not helping me, Mom. You owe me an apology for turning a blind eye to the abuse that you knew I was suffering when I was married to Eddie. You owe me an apology for not doing something about it."

"I don't..."

"You _knew_ what was going on. You _knew_ why I didn't come over to see you and Dad. You heard the way Eddie spoke to me...you saw bruises on my body...I wasn't able to come right out and say it to your face but you _knew..._ and you did nothing about it." She was surprised at how calm she sounded. When she had imagined confronting her mother she had always seen herself screaming and shouting at her, losing control completely. Perhaps the therapy had helped after all.

There was a long silence at the other end of the line.

"I guess I just want to know why," she continued. "Why didn't you do something? I know I'll never be as lucky as you were to actually have a child of my own but I can't imagine _for one minute_ knowing what she was going through and doing nothing about it. Even if I couldn't have left Eddie, even if I had told you that you were imagining it, having you at least _acknowledge_ what was going on might have helped me. I might have left him years before I did if I'd thought that you understood. If I hadn't thought that you would just tell me how lucky I was to have married him in the first place I might have been able to find the strength..."

"I didn't force you to marry him," Susan cut in bluntly. "You were in love with him. You _wanted_ to marry him."

"I'm not talking about when we got married. I'm talking about afterwards. I'm talking about when he changed, when he started being abusive to me."

"I wasn't keen on you marrying him," her mother continued as though she hadn't spoken. "I said as much to your father at the time. I didn't think that Edward was right for you but you...you were in love with him and with everything that he could give you and maybe, after getting to know him, I was too."

"I..."

"Your father and I had a comfortable life together, but I could see that Edward was going places and that he would one day own that firm. I knew that you would live well together. I obviously hoped that you would have children but..."

It was tempting to jump in, to argue against what her mother was saying, but something inside told Evelyn to wait, to let the silence linger, to let Susan find her words.

"I...knew that there was something wrong. I wasn't sure what but...I could have guessed. I...didn't want to believe it, didn't want to rock the boat. You always came across as being happy so..." she took a breath. "I didn't want to say anything in case it wasn't true, in case you got angry and decided you didn't want to see us anymore. You already didn't come around as often, you said so yourself and I...I didn't want to lose you."

"But I wouldn't have been angry," Evelyn said, her voice shaking again. "I would have been...relieved..."

"I didn't know that, how was I to know that?" Susan asked. "You were always much closer to your father than you ever were to me and he died so soon after you got married...maybe if he had lived things might have been different. He probably _would_ have said something to you if he'd had the feeling something was wrong but I...I felt as though I couldn't."

In a way, she could see her mother's logic. There never had been the natural closeness one might expect between a mother and a daughter, her always tending to favour her father. Susan had often been on the outside of their relationship and by the time he had died, she had already been married and under Edward's control. Perhaps she had never said anything to her mother for the same reason her mother had never said anything to her.

"Maybe I would have told Dad," she admitted. "But after I left Eddie, when I came to live with you, when I went to the police about what he had done...why didn't you say something then? Why did you stay away from court? Why didn't you support me when I needed it? Do you have any idea how hard it was to stand up and tell everyone what he had done to me?"

"Do you think it would have been easy for me to listen to it? Do you think I would have found it easy to sit there and watch you talk about how he..." Susan broke off. "It was bad enough reading about it in the papers."

"You're my mother," Evelyn said, once again amazed at how controlled she was. "It was your job, your duty, to be there for me and you failed. You failed miserably Mom. Even if I could have understood why you never said or did anything to help me when I was married I can't understand how you couldn't have been there for me through that."

"You had Ben..."

"It wasn't Ben's job to be my sole support! He had his children to think about at the time. I'm _your_ child! You should have been sat in that courtroom everyday living it with me. That's what parents are supposed to do! Instead you ran away and hid and then demanded that I put on a decent funeral for the bastard after he died! I mean..."

"I wasn't going to have anyone say that my daughter didn't do the right thing," Susan cut in. "You do realise, don't you, that there were people who didn't believe you when you said what Edward had done to you? Some of them were even people that I know! I wasn't going to let any of them be able to say anything negative about you. That's why I pushed you to organise the funeral and the wake afterwards."

I see...so you were concerned about my reputation?"

"Exactly."

"No Mom, you were concerned about your own. If you knew people who were openly opining that I was lying then you should have had the courage to put them straight, to stick up for me. Not duck to cover yourself." Everything suddenly seemed to become clear, as though whatever fog had surrounded her relationship with her mother had lifted. "Through _all_ of this, you've only thought about yourself. You didn't want to say anything to me about Eddie because you didn't want your friends to know and perhaps think less of you as a result. You didn't want to support me during the trial because of how it would have affected _your_ reputation. You wanted me to mourn Eddie for _you_." She paused as a thought suddenly entered her head. "And you told me that I should have an abortion rather than tell Ben about the baby because you didn't want your friends to know that you had a daughter having a baby out of wedlock."

"That's nonsense..."

"No, it isn't." She paused. "Do any of your so-called friends even know that I'm here or have you just told them that I'm still in London?"

"I have only ever wanted you to be happy..."

"I'll take that as a no." She felt her head start to ache. Her mother would never say sorry. The magical apology that would cure everything would never come. "I have to go now."

"No wait, Evelyn please..."

"Goodbye Mom."

She put the phone down and felt a sudden chill run through her despite the fact that it wasn't cold. Wrapping her arms around herself she knew it was the realisation that made her shiver, the realisation that her mother's interests had always come before her, the realisation that what she had often told herself and yet hoped wasn't true, was in fact correct. In a way, she might have respected her mother more if she had just owned how she felt, rather than dancing around it and dressing it up as faux concern for her.

Glancing at the clock on the wall she saw that there were only a few hours before Ben was due to call. He would be surprised when she told him about their conversation, she knew that for a fact. What she didn't know was how he would react when she told him what she desperately needed to.

XXXX

"This place hasn't changed," Carole said as she followed Ben into their mother's house later that afternoon. Mary had eventually grown tired and told them both to go and let her sleep which they had done somewhat reluctantly. Ben had driven them back to the house and found himself somewhat glad that his sister was there. It would have been strange being there on his own.

"No," he agreed, "not much anyway. Peter was in your room but I promise it doesn't smell bad. A change of sheets and you'll be good to go."

"A boy in my room?" Carole wrinkled her nose humorously. "Yuck!" She wandered into the kitchen. "How many dinners did we have around this table?"

"Too many."

"Don't lie. You always loved it when we were all together talking about our days. I was the one who couldn't get away from the table fast enough." She paused. "I guess I should have made more of an effort."

"Don't be silly," Ben chided her, switching on the kettle. "We were teenagers."

"I know...I guess this whole thing with Mom has just made me, I don't know, a bit introspective about my life. Like... I could have gone to college here but instead I picked Wyoming."

"They had a good science faculty."

"I could have come home after I graduated."

"You had already met Mitch."

She frowned, "Can't you just let me feel bad for five minutes?"

"No," he shook his head. "Neither of us should feel bad for the choices we made Carole. Yes it might have been nice if we'd all stayed in the Detroit area and raised our families here and had Sunday lunch every week but...we didn't. You love Laramie and I love New York and there isn't a damn thing either of us can do to change that."

"I guess so..." she pulled out a chair and sat down. "After things ended with Laura, did you ever think about coming back here?"

He paused, thinking back to that time and knowing immediately what his answer was. "No. I'd been in New York so long and my work was there...I suppose that my only regret is not considering moving to Hartford to be near the kids."

"That makes sense. Of course, if you had done that then you probably would never have met Evelyn."

"No, probably not."

"Would that have been a bad thing?"

He looked quickly at her, searching for any trace of malice in her expression and finding none. "Do _you_ think it would have been a bad thing?"

Carole sighed, "I'm your big sister, Ben...I don't like seeing you get hurt and I know that she's hurt you."

"She's not well."

"Maybe, but it's not an excuse to treat people like shit and still expect them to bend over backwards for them. I hope you're going to tell her to pay you back for all this treatment you've forked out for."

"That's none of your business," he said, irritated by her tone.

"Ok, it's none of my business," she agreed. "I just don't want to see you make a mistake here. If she's not well then the last thing she needs is a full time relationship. And with everything you've got going on right now, neither do you."

"Well it's good to see you haven't changed. You still think that you know what's best for me."

"Of course I do. Even if you never listen to me." She smiled indulgently and got to her feet. "Now, let me go and see the state of my room. If Peter's anything like you were at sixteen then it'll look like a hurricane's been through."

He watched as she disappeared up the stairs, dragging her case behind her. She really _hadn't_ changed. Still as bossy and demanding as she always had been. In one sense it was comforting, especially with his mother in hospital. In another, it was stifling. As if at fifty-one he couldn't make his own decisions. But what was the right decision? A few hours ago he had still been of the view that he needed to tell Evelyn how he really felt, needed to lay his cards on the table and ask her to do the same. A few minutes with his sister and he was suddenly starting to doubt himself again. How could he be responsible for perhaps sabotaging her progress by telling her things she might not be equipped to hear, though they would hardly come as a surprise to her? How would he feel if he was honest with her and she stuck to her previous line that they should just be friends?

How would he feel if he told her he loved her, needed her, wanted her, couldn't be her friend and she told him she felt the same? He would need to go to her and yet he wouldn't be able to, not just because of the rules governing her stay at the center, but also because of his own family circumstances.

The clock in the hall chimed four o'clock.

_Why does everything have to be so damn hard?_


	31. Chapter 31

The half hour crept by painfully slowly.

He busied himself around the kitchen, tidying up the mess left by the kids that morning in their hurry to eat something before heading to the airport and looking through the freezer to see if there was anything that he and Carole could have for dinner that evening.

_Maybe we should just eat out. Maybe it won't feel so weird then._

He closed the freezer over and turned back to survey the kitchen. Upstairs, he could hear Carole banging about as she sorted out her bedroom and though the sound was comforting, there was definitely something not right about being in the house without his mother. Of course, he had been there alone when she had gone to get errands or been with a friend, but this time felt different. If he didn't know better, he would swear it felt as though she had died.

When his father died, Mary had been a tower of strength. Naturally she had been devastated at the loss of her husband but she had carried on regardless, never once failing in the chores that she felt she had to do and putting on a brave face to the world. After so many years of being strong, it was perhaps no wonder that her heart had given her a gentle reminder that age didn't come itself.

The hands on his watch slipped finally to four-thirty and rather than use the phone in the hall, he wandered into his father's study and closed the door. He knew Carole would realise what he was doing and that he wasn't to be disturbed. It had always been an unwritten rule in the house growing up. If his father's door had been closed, you didn't go in. Sitting at his father's desk and running his hands across the smooth oak surface, he could almost feel George Stone in the room with him. Their relationship hadn't always been easy, things had been said from time to time that he wished hadn't, but he had always had a deep respect for his father and, in some strange way, he felt as though he was there, urging him on.

He dialled the number for the center and held his breath as the line connected and then started to ring out. Within three rings it had been answered and he heard her voice. She sounded breathless, as though she had been exerting herself, or maybe she was just as nervous as he felt he was.

"Hello?"

"Hi."

"Hi...how are you? How's your mother?"

"I'm ok," he said honestly. "Mom's fine. The doctor said it was just a minor attack but they're keeping her in for a few days to monitor her and hopefully she'll be able to come home early next week."

"That's a relief. You must have got such a shock."

"I did. Honestly, for a moment...I thought she was dead." It was the first time he had admitted it to anyone. He hadn't said it to the paramedics, the doctors, Laura, the kids, Carole or even his mother but, in that moment, he had been convinced that she had been gone and the loneliness that had accompanied that feeling had been more painful than he had expected. "When I saw her lying there..."

It felt so natural admitting it to her.

"I can only imagine," she said. "I'm so glad that she's going to be alright."

"Me too." He paused. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm doing fine. They've had us out playing more volleyball and I swear I'm practically an expert now. I'm thinking that I should join some kind of volleyball team when I get back to the city, if such a thing exists. It would seem wasteful not to..."

"I love you."

The words tumbled out before he could stop himself, before he could rationally analyse once again whether or not it was wise to tell her how he felt. Suddenly he found that he didn't care, that giving something too much thought did no good in the long run. Life was short, as he had almost found out to his cost, and whether or not she felt the same, he knew he had to make his feelings clear to her once and for all.

"I love you and I'm not afraid or ashamed to say it," he continued when she didn't say anything. "I've loved you through all of it, everything, I've never stopped. Even when you were in London and I knew some of what was happening, I never stopped loving you or wanting you. You...you've changed my life completely in this last year. Before I met you...I don't even think that I was living. I was just existing, working all the time, never seeing the kids...but you brought so much to my life and I know that there have been bad times, terrible times, and yet..." he tailed off, unsure exactly whether he was saying anything that made sense or if he was just blowing noise at her. He took a deep breath. "I can't be your friend, Evelyn. If that's all that you can give me then I understand but I can't...I can't be your friend. I can't talk to you occasionally or meet you for coffee every so often or do little favours for you like friends would...I just can't. I need you. I crave you. The entire time I've been in Detroit I've wished that you were here with us. I've wanted to share this place with you. I've wanted to see you with the kids. I've wanted you in my bed...if I say that I'll be your friend then I'll be lying to you and to myself and...I can't do that. It's all or nothing for me and I'm sorry if that isn't how you see things or how you want things to be but...I need to be honest with you." He paused again. "And I need you to be honest with me. Truly honest. I think that I deserve that."

There was a prolonged silence at the other end and all he could hear was the sound of his heart thumping in his chest. He gripped the arm of his father's chair with his free hand, bracing himself for what she might say and hoping that the pain of the leather tight against his skin would help deflect any burst of emotion he might have at her response.

"I wish..." she began shakily and then stopped.

_You wish what? You wish I hadn't said anything? You wish you could give me what I want? You wish I had never called? What do you wish?_

"I wish that I didn't have to stay here for another three weeks."

He paused, taking in what she had said and frowning at no-one in particular. "What does that mean?"

"It means...it means that I wish I could come to Detroit and be with you. It means that it kills me that I can't." She paused. "I love you Ben. I love you more than anything or anyone. I thought I loved Eddie before...before everything but in comparison to how I feel about you...I know what I said but...I've had a lot of time to think and process and work on myself and my feelings while I've been here and...and I've realised that I don't want to be your friend either. I want to be your wife."

He felt his breath leave his body all in a rush and he slumped back in the chair, his head spinning. He clutched the receiver tightly in his hand, worried that he might drop it and sever the tenuous connection that seemed to be growing stronger by the minute. He could feel blood surging through his body, flowing to all his organs and suddenly realised that he had felt almost dead himself at her previous decision. "Sweetheart..."

"I'm sorry," she said, her words now coming out in a rush. "I'm sorry that I said that to you before. It was, genuinely, how I felt at the time because I was still...I don't know...confused by everything that had happened and why I had been doing the things I had been doing and I guess...I guess I didn't think that I was worthy of you wanting more from me and I didn't think that I could give more but...but these weeks here, the therapy that I've had...I don't know how to explain it but it feel as though a fog has been lifted and...and I can see that the things that happened in the past need to stay there. Yes, I have to confront them and, to some extent I have, but I can't let them dictate my future." She paused. "I want a future with you, Ben, I do. I'm just...so relieved that you do too."

"Surely you never doubted how I felt?"

"Well...when you told me that you'd been for dinner with that other woman..."

"God, I'm sorry," he closed his eyes, angry with himself at his desperate need for honesty. "I should never have gone, I know that. But when I was in that restaurant with her, talking with her, looking at her...it only made it clearer that I wanted to be with you...that I needed to be with you..."

"But I don't blame you for that," she interrupted him. "I don't blame you for going out with her. I don't blame you for looking for someone to...I don't know, cling on to. I realise how what I'd told you must have made you feel and...afterwards I was desperate to call you back and tell you how I felt but... but she talked me down."

"Who talked you down?"

"Emma, my therapist. She told me...they all told me...that I had to love myself before I could love you and, at times, I've thought that was impossible because I hated myself for what I had done to you and what I had done in London and I couldn't ever see a way past that."

"And now?"

"Now...now I know that it's an ongoing process. I might not love myself or be able to own all my choices every day, I know that there will be times when I still feel upset and ashamed and I'm never going to completely forget the past but...I know that I can live with it, that I can compartmentalise it and I also know that I'm never going to be truly happy unless I have you in my life."

He sat forward in the chair. "I need to see you."

"I know."

"No, I _need_ to see you. I need to see you _now._ I need to hold you. I need..." he wasn't sure how to explain the depth of his feeling. It was as though if he didn't see and hold her, that she might change her mind. That another three weeks might condition her into a different way of thinking...that he might lose her all over again.

"Ben, I have to finish the program. I have to see it through to the end and take everything I can from it. I don't want to ever have to come back here again. I want to walk out of that door and into your arms and be able to say that it was a job well done." She paused. "I need you to wait for me."

He sighed heavily and closed his eyes. "You're right. I know you're right and I _will_ wait for you. I just...I want to marry you."

"I know."

"I want to marry you the second you leave that place."

"Sounds good to me," she laughed. "I wonder what my mother would say?"

"Do you care?" he asked sharply.

"No, not really. I spoke to her earlier. I told her some home truths."

"What kind of home truths?"

"I told her that she owed me an apology for not helping me with Eddie. I told her that she should have supported me during the trial and that her concerns were always for herself rather than for me...or words to that effect at least." She sighed. "She came up with some explanation but...the work that I've done here has made me realise that there is so much negativity that I don't need in my life right now and she's a big part of that. She told me that Sarah's marriage is in trouble and somehow managed to make that my fault. Whilst she'll always be my mother, I guess it would do me some good to keep my distance for a while."

Ben bit his tongue, not wanting to say what he really felt about the other woman. "We're your family, Evelyn. Me and the kids."

"I still have to work at that relationship," she reminded him. "I owe them an apology and I can't expect them to welcome me back with open arms overnight. When I _do_ leave, I think it would be better if I went back to my old apartment. They need time to get used to the idea of me being around again and their happiness and security is what's most important right now, not you and I."

As much as it pained him to think about being physically separated from her and living apart, he knew that what she was saying was right. Peter and Pamela had to come first and he could only hope they would want the family unit back as much as he did. "I love you for that."

"I might not be a biological mother but I can try my damndest to be a good stepmother. Better than I was before at any rate." She paused. "My time's nearly up."

"How am I going to get through this week not being able to talk to you?" he asked, frustrated at the distance, at the enforced separation.

"The same way we've both got through the last five weeks," she replied sensibly. "You'll be busy with your mom and then when you eventually get home you'll have the kids back and you'll be getting yourself ready for the semester starting...before you know it, it'll be time to come and get me."

"You do realise that once I get you back I'm not letting you out of my sight, right?" He knew he sounded possessive, but he didn't care.

"I can't wait," she replied. "I need to go."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

The line clicked off and he slowly replaced the receiver. For a moment, he wondered if he had dreamt the entire call. Maybe he was about to wake up and find that he had dozed off in the chair and missed his slot...

"Ben?" Carole knocked on the door, jolting him from his thoughts. "Are you still on the phone?"

He got to his feet, moved around the desk and opened the door. "No," he replied, "everything ok?"

"Fine. I was just wanting to call Mitch and let him know how Mom is." She looked at him curiously. "Are you alright?"

"I'm great," he said as reality started to flood through him. It hadn't been a dream. "In fact, I'm terrific!" He hugged her, lifting her off the ground, causing her to squeal and slap him on the shoulder. "We should eat out tonight and then we should go by the hospital and see Mom again. I want to tell her the good news."

"What good news?"

He grinned at her, "I'm getting married."

XXXX

She drifted through the rest of the evening, feeling as though she wasn't quite present. She ate dinner, played cards with some of the girls and chatted about generalities, but it felt as though her head wasn't sitting on her shoulders, rather floating somewhere above her. It reminded her of the pleasant feeling she had had upon reaching her second or third glass of wine and yet there was no alcohol involved. In her mind, she could hear his voice, could replay everything that he had said and found herself smiling to herself in a way that she knew would make the others think she had lost her mind.

He was hers. He was still hers. He wanted to be with her, wanted to marry her, wanted to build a life with her...it was everything that she had had before and had thrown away because she couldn't see past the demons. Now...now she could. This time, she wasn't going to let anything or anybody, dead or alive, screw up her future.

When she got back to her room that night, she made a list of what she was going to do.

Firstly, she would call her attorney and find out how far along things were with Edward's estate. She would need to ensure that she had the means to cover her rent and also repay Behn for her treatment.

Secondly, she would need to think about getting a job. She wondered if the Public Defenders' office would take her back and she noted down Shambala's name with a question mark next to it as well as a reminder to make sure she bought a newspaper every day so she could look at the situations vacant.

Thirdly, she would call Sarah. Grudgingly, she had to admit her mother had been right on one score. She _did_ owe Sarah an apology for what had happened in London and she _was_ genuinely concerned for her cousin's marriage.

Fourthly, she would have to make sure that she had regular therapy appointments arranged. She wondered if it would be wise going back to Elizabeth or whether she should consider someone completely new and neutral. Presumably the center might have some advice for her on that score.

She paused, her pen hovering over the page, debating whether there was anything else that would need her attention and her free hand went automatically to her scar, her fingers running over it.

Fifthly, she would need to talk to McCoy, find out what was happening with the prosecution of the shooters and clarify whether or not he wanted her to give evidence. The thought sent a slight shiver through her but she knew that if it needed to be done, she would do it.

Sixthly...she paused again before noting down that she should see a doctor. Finality, certainty...it seemed the most sensible thing to do. The stress of another potential pregnancy, the risk of miscarriage, all of it...it seemed unfair to ask Ben to have a vasectomy, especially as that would mean shifting the responsibility to him rather than accepting it for herself. No, she would need to find out what her options were...what would be best and if that was a hysterectomy then so be it.

She closed the notebook, undressed quickly and slid between the covers, hoping that sleep would come quickly. It didn't. Her mind was too active, too full of thoughts of the future, too consumed by him. Her fingers drifted between her thighs and she thought about him...his hands, his mouth his cock...for the short amount of time it took for her to reach a state of blissful pleasure.

Then she rolled over, pulled the duvet up to her chin and slowly slipped into a sleep of happiness for the first time in a long time.


	32. Chapter 32

**One week later**

Home.

It felt so strange unlocking the door and walking into his apartment again, even though it had only been three weeks since he had left it. The stillness that greeted him was slightly unnerving, despite the fact that he had spent many days and nights in it alone. After the hustle and bustle of Detroit with the kids, his mother and Carole, being on his own seemed, somehow, unnatural. A few short hours earlier, he had said goodbye to his responsibilities in the Midwest and boarded the plane back to New York, safe in the knowledge that his sister was going to stay another week to make sure that their mother was alright. Having been discharged from hospital a few days earlier, she had made a miraculous recovery and, but for a slight slowness to her gait, seemed almost completely returned to normal. Despite her outward bravado, however, he knew that the incident had shaken her and though she had encouraged him to return home, he also knew she was grateful for Carole's continued presence.

The mailbox had been stuffed almost full, three weeks worth of post clogging it up to the point where he almost hadn't been able to get it open. Most of it was bills and magazine subscriptions, an invitation to his college reunion in October and then, amongst it all, he found it. Her letter. The one she had painstakingly written for him, the one that he had been dying to read for so long even if it was, perhaps now, slightly out of date.

He deposited the rest of the mail on the table and hurriedly sliced open the envelope, pulling out neat folds of paper that, once opened, bore her unmistakable handwriting. Seeing it, made his breath catch in his throat and for a moment he simply looked at the pages without reading the words, feeling somehow closer to her again.

It had been a long week since he had last spoken to her, since they had both confirmed how they felt about each other...since he had started to feel happy again. He was due to talk to her again later that afternoon and he found his eyes straying to the clock even though he knew there were hours still to go before they could speak. Pulling out a chair, he sat down and focused on the letter in front of him, forcing his brain to take in her prose.

_Dear Ben,_

_I thought it was only fair that I write something to you after you wrote your diary for me. I can't tell you what it meant to read everything that you'd written. In all honesty, some of it was hard for me to take in. Reading about how you felt when I left and how much I had hurt you wasn't easy, but I needed to really know you felt, so thank you. I wish I had kept some kind of journal when I went to London. It might have been useful for you to have some kind of insight into what I was going through during those months, rather than you having to rely on me simply telling you which, in all honesty, isn't easy for me to do. I feel as though I've hurt you again by telling you that I think we should be friends. I don't think I explained it very well over the phone, in fact I know I didn't. I need you to know that this is not something that I thought about lightly. When you came to London, when you told me that you loved me, when you held me in your arms and told me that I would always be yours, I guess I couldn't take it in properly. I was so wrapped up in my own feelings that I suppose I wasn't able to think about yours. But you brought me here. You saved me from God only knows what and I don't want you to think for one minute that I am not grateful for that. I don't want you to think for one minute that I don't love you, because I do._

_I know it's selfish of me to ask you to hang around waiting to see if I'm going to get better. I want to. I really want to, more than anything. I want to be the Evelyn that I was before I met Eddie. I was a happy person, a fun-loving person, a loving person...I even think you might have liked me back then. Maybe if things had been different in our lives and we had met all those years ago things would be different now. But we didn't and they're not. But you deserve to meet that Evelyn and decide for yourself if she's someone that you can love, that you can be with._

_Please wait for me. Please don't give up on me._

_I love you._

_Evelyn x_

He read it through twice and after reaching the end, found his eyes starting to mist over. It made sense, it really did, and had she been able to articulate to him on the phone what she had managed to commit to paper he would never have doubted her, never thought for one minute that she was pushing him away, never contemplated not waiting for her.

_God, the agonies of miscommunication..._

She sounded so unsure in the letter, nervous almost, as though she wasn't altogether expecting to come out of the fog of her mental distress. The letter read so differently from how she had come across on the phone. She had seemed so sure, so resolved, so much clearer...he checked the date. Could she really have made so much progress in so little time?

Maybe he had been too hasty, too forceful in what he had said to her, especially about marriage but then...hadn't she been the one to mention it first? Hadn't she said that she wanted to be his wife? What had he been supposed to take from that? Leaving the letter sat on the table, he wandered into the kitchen and switched on the coffee machine, then proceeded to empty his suitcase and pile the laundry in one corner whilst mechanically tidying away his other clothes.

 _You need to be more restrained. Don't push it. Don't push_ her. _She has to see things for herself. She has to stand on her own two feet..._

As he sipped his coffee in the quiet, he fought down the urge to plan, to think about wedding dates and guest lists and rings...suddenly he paused, thinking on how he had never bought her an engagement ring, not even the first time when they had still been together. It had seemed slightly inappropriate when she had still been married to Edward, but widowhood needn't create the same barrier, at least he knew it wouldn't for her. Perhaps that was something he could do that wasn't overly forceful and yet reminded her of his love and commitment. He could give it to her when he collected her from the center.

_You could do that. You could be engaged, then she can take all the time that she needs but you'll know that she's going to marry you. It's the perfect solution._

Feeling happier in himself again, he drained his coffee, lifted his wallet and headed for the door.

XXXX

"I'm not convinced you're listening to me."

Evelyn looked over to where Emma was watching her from the opposite couch and felt her cheeks redden at having been caught out. The reality was, she _hadn't_ been listening and, looking at the clock on the wall, hadn't been for some time.

"Sorry, I was miles away."

"Miles away in New York?"

"Yes," she replied honestly. "I was thinking about Ben." If the truth be told, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about him since they had spoken. Her mind was full to the brim with him and her nerves jangled with the anticipation of seeing him again.

Emma regarded her carefully. "You've been thinking about him a lot lately."

"I suppose so."

"More than you were before?"

Evelyn looked away, "I told him that I loved him, that I wanted to be with him...that I wanted to marry him." In the silence that followed, she dared to look back at the other woman and saw to her surprise that her expression was neutral. "I thought that you'd be pissed at me."

"Why?"

"Because you think that I'm not working on myself, on my goals. You think that I'm putting him before myself and running the risk of falling back into bad habits. You think that I'll be dependent on him and I'll backslide to how I was before." Again, Emma said nothing and Evelyn shifted uncomfortably. "Right?"

"Actually I wasn't thinking any of those things," Emma replied. "But _you_ clearly are. Talk to me about them."

"I'm not...I'm not thinking those things," Evelyn said, though she could hear for herself how unconvincing her tone sounded. "Ok, maybe I am, but only a little bit." She paused. "He sounded so happy on the phone. I know..." she pre-empted what Emma was about to say. "I'm not responsible for his emotions and my own happiness has to come first."

"That's right."

"But I _am_ happy. I'm happy at the prospect of being with him, of building a life with him, of being his wife. I wouldn't have said all those things if I hadn't meant any of them."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"You didn't say them because you thought they were what he wanted to hear?"

She opened her mouth to reply and then stopped. Would she have said all those things to him if he hadn't spoken first? If he hadn't told her how he felt, given her an ultimatum of sorts? Told her it was all or nothing? She could hear his voice in her head, could replay every moment of the conversation and realised that she knew the truth.

"No, I didn't say them because I thought they were what he wanted to hear. I might have done that when we were together before I went to London but, this time, I said them because they were the truth. He might have said things first but I had already made up my mind that I was going to tell him how I really felt. You saw me that night. You must have realised that I still felt the same way?"

"I knew that you were disquieted after he told you that he had had dinner with another woman, that you felt that you were in danger of losing him because of the conditions you had placed on your relationship going forwards..."

"But I don't want those conditions, not anymore!" Evelyn exclaimed in frustration. "At the time, yes, I thought that friendship was all I could offer, but now..."

"Now you believe that you're ready for a full relationship...marriage, and all that entails?"

"Well...maybe not marriage right away but, yes I feel ready for a relationship. I feel ready for a relationship with _him_. I _want_ a relationship with him. I don't see how living like a nun is going to help me, I really don't. And if that means that I've failed your program then I've failed."

"Evelyn, you can't fail while you're still here," Emma said gently. "You're still a work in progress. You have another two weeks of support and assistance to take advantage of and, believe it or not, our aim isn't to force you to live like a nun. If you leave here and resume your relationship with Ben and are ultimately _happy_ then we've done our job. All we try to do is encourage you to seek support and strength and confidence from within yourself, not from other people, lovers or otherwise, so that if things go wrong or if you find it hard to cope with your feelings sometimes, as is often the case, _you_ have the tools to pick yourself up and keep going."

"And you don't think I have those tools?"

"I think you've moulded a good proportion of them. But like many things in life, you can only test yourself in real world situations. Here, you're in a cocoon, a bubble. Things are very different when you go back to your old life and live among other people again, people who don't understand your or your struggles, people who aren't as sympathetic and nurturing as we are here. And if you haven't found your base, your solid base, then it can be all too easy for things to fall apart."

Emma leaned forward in her chair and regarded her earnestly.

"I will be _delighted_ if you leave here and end up happily married to Ben or whomever you choose. I will be _devastated_ if you walk back through that door because it was all too much too soon."

XXXX

"I've been thinking about you all day," Ben said, sitting back in the couch and feeling himself relax at the sound of her voice. "Two more weeks and then we can be together. I can't wait, sweetheart."

"No, neither can I."

He paused, picking up on a slight note of hesitation in her voice and wondering if he was imagining it. "So, what have you been doing today?"

"Oh...well I had a session earlier and then just some quiet time reading..."

This time, there was no mistaking it. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong."

"Are you sure?" he sat forwards. "You sound a little...distracted." He waited for her to jump in and tell him that he was imagining it or that she was simply tired, but she didn't. "Evelyn?"

"I'm just...I don't..." she sighed heavily. "I hope that I didn't give you the wrong impression last week that's all."

He felt a coldness start to creep up his spine, "What do you mean?"

"I mean...when I said that I wanted to marry you..."

The coldness spread further, "Uh huh?"

"I do...I do want to marry you. I just...I don't want to rush into anything, that's all."

Silence hung between them as she clearly waited for him to respond and he tried desperately to think of something to say. His eyes fell on the coffee table in front of him where the small package sat, wrapped in its distinctive colour, a single diamond solitaire nestled within. It had taken the best part of two hours for him to decide what ring to buy and the salesgirl had been very patient with him. He had been happy with his choice, aware that it was very different from the ring Edward had given her all those years ago and he had been fantasising about the moment when he would slip it on her finger.

"That's ok," he heard himself say. "When I said I wanted to marry you the second you left the center, I wasn't being serious..."

"I know," she said. "I suppose I'm just not sure what kind of timescale you were really envisioning."

"Well..." he floundered for the best answer, aware that it was something he _did_ want sooner rather than later. "I mean, maybe before the end of the year...or something like that?" She didn't say anything. "When were _you_ thinking would be a good time?"

"I don't know. I suppose I need to see how things are between us, not to mention how the kids feel. I need to get a job and..."

"If you're worried about paying me back for your treatment, don't be," he said hurriedly. "I don't want you to."

"Of course I'm going to pay you back."

"You honestly don't have to..."

"I'm going to pay you back Ben," she said firmly. "That's non-negotiable as far as I'm concerned."

"Ok."

She sighed again, "God I'm making such a mess of this...I _do_ love you. I love you so much and I want us to be together. I guess...I guess I'm just scared that we jump into something too quickly and it all goes wrong."

"I would never hurt you..."

"I know you wouldn't. I'm talking about me, _my_ demons. Like I said last week, I've started to be able to work through them but it's an ongoing process and I'm scared that if we commit too quickly and things get rough for me that I might lean on you more than I should. Like I said in my letter, I want to be the Evelyn I was before." She paused. "I take it that...you read it?"

"Yes I did."

"And?"

He wanted to reply quickly, wanted to fire something back at her, wanted to convince her that what she was saying wasn't correct but, deep down, he knew it wouldn't be the right thing to do. He needed to respect her wishes and acknowledge her feelings and if that meant taking things at a slower pace than he would have liked, then that was alright. "And it all made perfect sense. I understand and I don't want you to feel as though you need to do something that you're not ready to do. I want us to get married Evelyn, but only when you're ready." He thought back on what Elizabeth had said when he had gone to see her in high dudgeon about Evelyn's decision that they should just be friends. "Looking back, we didn't really ever date like a normal couple, did we?"

"No," she agreed, sounding slightly surprised. "No, I suppose we didn't."

"It might be nice to do that, you know...dinner, the movies, that sort of thing. No pressure."

"I'd like that," she said, and he could hear the genuine relief in her voice. "I'd really like that."

"Then that's what we'll do," he resolved. "Maybe our first date could be when I pick you up from the center. Maybe we could have lunch or dinner somewhere. You can pick."

"That would be nice," she said softly. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. I love you."

"I love you too." She let out a long breath. "You have no idea how lonely it can be here at night."

He felt his body respond, even though she was miles away. "I think I've got a pretty good idea."

"I'm ashamed to say this but I think, when you _do_ pick me up, regardless of whether we go for lunch or dinner or whatever...I'm going to need...something."

"I know," he replied, closing his eyes at the thought, "Me too."


	33. Chapter 33

**Two weeks later**

The sky had never looked so blue or so clear. August was starting to drift into September and yet the weather still held. The sun was bright and warm and there was only a slight breeze, just enough to ruffle the hair on her shoulders and make it flutter slightly around her face. As she stood looking down the hill to the valley, she hoped that it was all a good sign. That someone, somewhere, was telling her that she was on the right track.

Turning, she looked back at the building behind her, her home for the last eight weeks. In some ways, it seemed like a lifetime and in others, like no time had passed at all. She remembered sitting in the same garden, kissing Ben as he'd said goodbye to her and wondering how the hell she was going to cope. She smiled sadly, thinking back to the woman she had been that day. With any luck, she would never be that woman again.

Ben was coming for her. He would be there in less than an hour and she felt her stomach turn over in excitement at the prospect of seeing him. Time had often dragged in those last two weeks, even once phone contact had been unrestricted and they had been able to talk whenever they wanted to. Often it had just been wonderful to hear the sound of his voice, but there had also been practicalities too. He had made all the arrangements for her to move back into her old apartment. The previous tenants had vacated it and he had been to see it, reporting back that it still looked as she would remember it. He had even done a grocery shop for her so that it would be something she wouldn't need to automatically think about and he had also hinted that the children had left presents for her but wouldn't divulge what they were.

Out of everything, it was Peter and Pamela's seeming acceptance of her that gratified her the most. On one occasion during the week when she had called Ben, Pamela had been in the apartment and they had had a very brief yet pleasant conversation. She knew it was no substitute for the serious discussion she would need to have with them at some point in the future, but it had still warmed her heart to know that they didn't despise her. Whether by design or simply by coincidence, the children were spending the weekend in Connecticut before coming back to the city on Sunday evening to begin school the next day and whilst she was anxious to see them, she would have been lying to herself if she hadn't relished a few days simply to relax and breathe normal city air again without the weight of heavy responsibility.

"Evelyn?" She turned at the sound of her name to see Harry standing just inside the patio doors watching her. "Are you ready for debrief?" She nodded and hurriedly made her way over to him. "Emma's waiting for us in my office," he said, leading the way along the corridor before opening the door for her. Once inside, she saw Emma sitting on one of the couches and she smiled, taking the opposite one and thinking how she was actually going to miss both of them. "Well..." Harry closed the door behind him. "Here we are."

"Here we are," she echoed. "Part of me can't quite believe that it's time to go."

"How do you feel about going home?"

"A little nervous," she admitted. "You were right when you said once that this place is like a cocoon," she motioned to Emma. "It can feel very safe here sometimes."

"It's meant to," Emma nodded. "But that also means that it can be daunting when you have to leave the cocoon. How do you feel you are now in comparison to how you were when you arrived?"

"Like night and day."

"That's good. You've done a lot of important work on this program, Evelyn. Now's the time to put everything you've learned into practice."

"You're going back to your apartment?" Harry said and she nodded. "And you're going to be looking for work?"

"Yes, I talked to a former colleague a few days ago and she was pretty confident that they might have a place for me back at the public defenders' office." She smiled, thinking back on the conversation with Shambala and how good it had been to hear a friendly voice. When she had apologised for how she had behaved in those bleak weeks before leaving for London, the other woman had reminded her that she had promised she would be there for her when it all came crashing down and she was relieved Shambala had kept to her word.

"How do you feel about that?"

"Positive...I don't know if it's what I want to do long term, but it's a good starting point."

"I talked with Dr Olivet yesterday and she was keen to have you back as a patient," Harry said. "Ongoing therapy is going to be essential to your continued recovery."

"I know," Evelyn nodded. "And I'm willing to do that." Having thought about it, she had concluded it would be pointless starting over with a new therapist, not when she had one so close at hand who knew so much about her personal history. There would be things that she instinctively wouldn't need to say to Elizabeth.

"I took the liberty of making an appointment for you with her next Tuesday at 10am," Harry handed her a card.

"Thank you," she nodded. "Ben also took the liberty of finding out where the nearest AA meetings are in the city should I need them."

"Do you feel as though you need to drink?" Harry asked.

"No, but I suppose it's good to know that there's support out there."

"You'll be excited to see Ben," Emma said.

Evelyn met her gaze. "Yes, I am."

"Just remember everything that we talked about in your sessions and what you took from others in the group setting. Putting yourself first is of paramount importance right now."

"I know and I believe Ben understands that."

"Good." Harry got to his feet and she and Emma followed suit. "I wish you all the luck in the world, Evelyn. I hope, in the nicest way possible, that we don't meet again in this capacity."

"Me too," she shook his hand and then accepted Emma's hug. "I want to thank both of you, so much, for everything that you've done for me. If you hadn't offered me a place here I honestly don't know what would have happened."

"Well it's fortuitous that we were here," Harry smiled. "Have you finished gathering your things?"

"Almost, just the last few bits and pieces to pack."

"Well, we won't keep you. When Ben arrives I just need him to sign a release form confirming that you've been appropriately discharged and then you can be on your way."

Evelyn let out a long breath, the feeling of nervous, excited anticipation washing over her again. "I can't wait."

XXXX

The drive to the center seemed longer somehow than it had two months earlier, but then he had to admit that his mind was clearer this time and his thoughts more positive. Eight weeks ago, as she had lain across his lap in the backseat of Mike's car, he genuinely hadn't known what was going to happen to her, hadn't known if she would be able to pull herself out of the fog that she had been in for so long. Now he knew that she had and his eagerness to see her seemed frustrated by the apparent distance between them.

He had seen the children onto the train that morning, both of them still protesting that they had wanted to come with him and Pamela whining about not really wanting to go to Connecticut. Ideally, he would have loved them to have been there to welcome Evelyn back, but he had enough sense to realise that it wouldn't be fair to overwhelm her so early on and so he had gently, but firmly, insisted that the plans made still stood but that, if she was up to it, they might be able to see her briefly on Sunday evening.

Before leaving his apartment, he had put the wrapped engagement ring at the back of one of the drawers in the living room. It wasn't the right time for that yet even though over the previous two weeks he had felt them grow closer again despite being apart. Their conversation had flowed increasingly effortlessly and when he had hung up the phone the previous night, it had almost felt as though no time had passed at all, as though she had never left him, never been to London, never been unwell. It was so tempting to want to rush things, to try and put their lives back together the way they had been before. But then he had to remind himself that the apparent happiness back then had been just that for her, apparent. This time they needed to work towards a true happiness and he was damned if he was going to let anything spoil that.

By the time he made the turn onto the road leading up to the center, the butterflies were doing somersaults in his stomach and he could almost feel his body shaking.

_What if we look at each other and realise there's nothing there?_

It was a thought that had often plagued him during the long nights alone. What if they were great together on the phone and yet, once together in the flesh, there was no longer any chemistry, any spark? What if it had all been snuffed out by the events of the last few months? He swung into the car park and pulled to a halt, letting out a shaky breath as he did so.

_It's going to be fine. It's going to be absolutely fine._

He got out of the car and turned towards the center, catching sight of her almost immediately. She was sitting in the sun on the low wall by the main steps, dressed casually in a white tied shirt and blue skirt. When she saw him, she pushed herself onto her feet and then stood, hovering, as he made his way over to her. He needn't have worried. His body started to sing the closer he got to her, yet he saw the same fleeting look of uncertainty in her face that he knew he wore.

"Hi," he greeted her.

"Hi," she replied.

"You look..." he fought for the right word. "You look great."

"Better than I did eight weeks ago, right?"

"Much better." He took in the rosiness of her cheeks, the light browning of her skin and the shine of her hair. He wanted to make the first move, was desperate too, and yet... "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." She paused. "I'm grateful that you came back for me."

"I promised I would. As if I could ever have left you here."

Her lip suddenly trembled and she rushed forwards and into his arms, "Oh Ben..."

He gripped her to him fiercely, feeling himself gaining in strength just through the sensation of her pressed against him. He had held her before, in London and even at the center, but this felt so different...and so familiar. He could feel her breath on his neck, her tears dampening his shirt and tangling his fingers in her hair, he pulled her head back gently from his shoulder and kissed her. She responded with equal ardour, sliding her arms up and around his neck and he lifted her slightly off of the ground as though he intended to carry her away like the rescued princess.

_Maybe my mother was right. Maybe I am a white knight._

"I've missed you so much," she said, when they finally broke apart. "I don't think I even knew _how_ much until right now."

"Seeing you like this...looking healthy and happy..." he cupped her face with his hands and kissed her again. "I guess it makes it all seem worth it."

She let out a long breath and rested her head against his chest again. "I don't know if it was _all_ worth it, but right now...having you here... I don't think I've ever felt happier."

He squeezed her again, almost afraid to let go in case she suddenly evaporated in front of him. "Let me get you away from here. Let me take you home."

"Oh yes..." she sighed, "Please do."

XXXX

It wasn't exactly conducive, comfortable or possibly even legal but it was necessary.

After signing the discharge form and thanking Harry personally for what he had done for Evelyn, Ben found he couldn't wait to get her into the car and get them as far away from the center as he could. For a moment, as they made their way slowly down the drive back to the main road, he had visions of someone chasing after them, shouting that she couldn't leave, that she needed to stay another eight weeks and when he eventually turned homewards, he put his foot down slightly harder than intended, causing her to look over and ask him what the rush was.

Easing up on the gas, he had driven more leisurely, glancing at her every so often as she took in the passing scenery. Of course, she had been no further than the center in two whole months and been practically catatonic on their last journey there, so he had to remind himself that everything was new for her. After an hour or so, they stopped to eat lunch and she joked that it could be considered their first date. They talked easily, her asking about the children and his mother, him tentatively raising the subject of her own mother only for her to reply that she hadn't spoken to her again since their last difficult conversation. He thought she might have been melancholy about it but, if anything, she seemed clear headed and resolved about their relationship, telling him that she felt keeping her distance was the best thing all round for the moment. It gratified him too to watch her eat, to see her demolish a burger and cheese fries with little difficulty and he pushed the image of her gaunt and draining a wine bottle far from his mind.

When they had left the restaurant the tension between them had been at an all time high and holding hands as they walked back to the car only seemed to make things worse. He had looked at the road signs as they headed back towards the city, mentally calculating how long it would take to get to her apartment once they hit traffic, and had realised that he couldn't wait. When he had happened to look over at her again he found her watching him, a slight smile playing around the corner of her mouth that, for all intents and purposes, told him that she was thinking the same thing.

The sign for the picnic spot appeared almost like a pronouncement from heaven and he turned off the main road down a single forestry track that he assumed would bring them out next to the river. When he made the manoeuvre, he looked at her again and though a frown had momentarily crossed her expression, she had quickly cottoned on to his purpose, her hand moving to rest lightly on his leg.

The foliage eventually gave way to reveal a quiet spot with a few picnic benches dotted around near a slope leading down to the water. Mercifully, despite the good weather, there was no one else there and he couldn't help but think that they probably weren't the first couple to take advantage of such a secluded location.

"Do you have a blanket?"

"In the trunk," he replied, "but I thought..."

"We can't do it in the car."

"Why not?"

"Because we're not seventeen," she laughed, opening the door. "And if we're not able to get to a bed then we should find the next best thing. Come on!" He got out after her and popped the trunk, reaching in and lifting out the large fleece blanket that lived there. Opening it out, he gave it a shake and then looked at her questioningly. "Over there," she said, gesturing to where a large tree stood a few feet away, sheltering whomever might choose to sit under it.

"We can't do it out in the open," he said. "Somebody else might come by!"

"We don't have to take all our clothes off. If anyone _does_ come by they'll probably just think we're canoodling anyway. Isn't that what people our age do?" She sidled closer to him. "Unless you'd rather wait until we get back to the city?"

He knew _that_ was impossible so he followed her away from the car over to the shaded area she had selected and proceeded to spread the blanket onto the ground. Immediately, she lowered herself down onto it and slowly started unbuttoning her shirt, her eyes never leaving his. He joined her, impatiently waiting as she meticulously released each button, a little more flesh appearing with each movement until she opened it fully and then lay down on her back, inviting him to join her.

He knew he should show some restraint, knew that it should be slow, gentle and loving, and though he initially tried to harness his desire for her, it ultimately proved too much. As for her suggestion that they needn't take all their clothes off, _that_ proved an impossibility too. He needed to feel her, all of her, pressed against him, skin against skin. The breeze from the water helped, but it was still hot and sticky and as she groaned and arched against him, his fingers bringing her to a fast release as his mouth suckled on her breasts, he felt fire raging through him and, somewhat roughly, he parted her thighs to enter her as her orgasm slowly died away.

Hooking her legs around his waist she held him to her as he pushed inside her and he instantly knew that there would be no long, drawn out lovemaking on his part. It was going to be fast and it was going to be hard and, somewhat shamefully, as she cried out beneath him, he felt himself pounding London out of her, replacing the memory of every man she had been with since that night at her mother's apartment with the fresh memory of him. He wanted to fill her, physically and metaphorially, with himself.

It had only been four months and in that time he had thought about her regularly alone in bed at night but being with her now seemed almost on another level. It was the most intense, most satisfying, almost painful few moments of his life and the relief was indescribable when he came hard, unloading inside her, feeling the sharpness of her nails digging into his back and yet not caring.

Finally, he collapsed on top of her, unable to speak, unable to do anything except lie there and bask in the glory of having her back, of making her his again, however tribal that might sound. Eventually, he lifted his head and looked down at her flushed face, her hair wild around her head, her bright eyes and kissed her gently.

"Are you ok?" he asked, his voice barely carrying as he slowly withdrew from her.

"Yes," she replied, her breathing starting to regulate. "Are you?"

He slid his arms around her, rolled over onto his back and pulled her against him, lifting the corner of the blanket as he did so and wrapping it around both their bodies, protecting whatever modesty either of them had left. "I'm more than ok," he replied, closing his eyes as she nestled into him. "I'm ecstatic."

XXXX

It was peaceful, so peaceful. All she could hear as she lay with her head against his chest was the slow thumping of his heart and the breeze rustling the branches above their head. No-one else had appeared to spoil their perfect idyll and she was half convinced that she would fall asleep if left unchecked. His fingers gently stroked the flesh of her shoulder, making her shiver slightly with the dying embers of desire.

It had been nothing short of incredible and had definitely helped push any thought she might have had about London firmly from her mind. None of them mattered, not Alex, not Brian, not the nameless, faceless ones...none of them. He was all she needed, all she craved and it had been joyous to let go, to feel the release, to cry out his name and not care who heard, to not have to suppress anything.

_Never again. You will never feel like that again. Never._

_He's yours and you're his. You don't need anyone else._

_You're going to spend the rest of your life making love like this._

"Ben?"

"Hmmmm?"

"Do you think any less of me because I put out on the first date?"


	34. Chapter 34

The rest of the day raced by in a haze.

By the time they had disentangled themselves from each other, dressed and set off back towards the city, it was late afternoon and almost dinner time by the time she unlocked the front door and stepped inside.

Arriving back to the apartment felt like a homecoming, yet it also felt slightly barren, missing all of the homely knick-knacks that she had placed in storage when she had moved in with him. He had previously arranged to have her bigger items, couch, bed, dresser delivered there in time for her arrival and he suggested that they go to her locker and start shifting the remaining things back, but she declined, preferring instead to go about making the place feel like her own again in other ways.

Sex.

Sex was a big part of it. The reconnection she had felt down by the water still pounded through her and every time he brushed past her, she felt her heart rate start to increase. She knew that they should sit and talk or at least think of something else but, awakened, she found herself constantly craving him. She made the bed, spread the crisp linens, plumped up the pillows and then invited him into it with her to mess it all up again. They rolled around together like teenagers before sharing a cool shower that did more or less the opposite of what it was intended for. By the time she had orgasmed for perhaps the fourth time that day, her body close to collapse against the smooth wetness of the shower tiles, she could hear her stomach start to rumble and they sat on the couch, wrapped in towels, while she perused the takeout menu.

"What do you fancy?" she asked. "Chinese or pizza or..."

"You," he replied, pulling down the edge of her towel and gently biting down on her bare shoulder. "I fancy you..." his tongue gently trailed a path along her collarbone and up her throat before his mouth found hers and he kissed her again.

"I'm starting to think that you've been taking some kind of performance enhancing drugs," she joked.

"I think I've done not too badly today for a man my age."

"I'm not complaining."

"Good..." he unwrapped the rest of her towel and slid her onto her back. "Because I'm not done yet."

Her laugh of half-hearted protest quickly became a muted sigh as his lips trailed down over her breasts, her stomach and then between her thighs. "There's no way," she murmured, her fingers instinctively finding their way into his hair. "There's no way...not again..." But there was. Minutes later she was bucking against him as intense pleasure crashed through her leaving her once again weak and breathless. When she finally managed to get control of herself, she made the decision for both of them to order Chinese and by the time the food came, they were dressed and he had set the table.

It was like a feast had been placed before her. The food at the center had been decent enough but it couldn't compare to sticky chicken and fried rice and spring rolls and spare ribs. She ate as though she had been starved for two months until finally, she felt sated. He humoured her, saying nothing as she took pleasure in the food, the burger and fries from earlier long forgotten. "Today has been...incredible," she said, licking sauce from her fingers. "But, after this, I think you should go home."

He paused, a fleeting look of hurt crossing his face. "Oh, I thought...well I thought I could stay here with you tonight."

"We're meant to be dating, remember?"

"Couples who date can go on dirty weekends together."

"Is that what this is? A dirty weekend?"

"Well we've had a lot of sex," he reached over and wiped sauce from her chin with his finger. "Isn't that the definition?"

"I suppose so." She took her hand in his and kissed it. "I know you must think that all that time spent alone at the center would mean that I would want you with me all the time but..." she trailed off, suddenly aware of how her words sounded. "I mean..."

"You want to be by yourself."

She nodded. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be hurtful, but I think that it's important for me."

"I understand," he said brightly. "And it's absolutely fine with me. It's been a pretty intense time for you so I get that you feel you need to breathe a little."

"Thank you," she smiled, feeling a rush of love for him wash over her. He was a good, decent man...probably more than she deserved. "I'm glad that you understand."

They finished their food and he helped her clear up before lifting his jacket from the couch and heading over towards the door. "I could call you later?"

"No," she said, sliding her arms around his waist and leaning into him. "Call me tomorrow and we can do something together. Maybe something that takes us outside."

He smiled, bending to kiss her, "Ok. I hope you get a decent night's sleep."

"I think I will," she laughed. "I don't know about you but I'm exhausted."

He grinned and pulled her close for another kiss. "I'm glad."

Once alone, she pottered around the apartment, thinking about where she would put her possessions once she had them back, straightening the bedclothes and unpacking her suitcase. She looked again at the thoughtful gifts left by the kids, a beautiful drawing from Pamela and a note from Peter asking her to go to a Mets game with him and she felt a surge of both relief and anxiety about seeing them again. Most of all, she found herself unable to settle. The television held no real appeal for her, given how used she had grown to not watching it and, glancing at her watch, she saw that it had just turned nine o'clock. The sky was still light outside and, somewhat impulsively, she decided to go for a walk. Grabbing a cardigan, she let herself out of the apartment, down the stairs and out onto the street. The air still held some heat and she deliberately turned right rather than left, thus avoiding walking past the spot where the attack had happened.

_You're being silly. It's not as if you haven't walked past that spot countless times before since it happened._

"Maybe I have," she muttered under her breath, "but I'm just not ready right now."

As she turned corners, the streets grew busier and she took the opportunity to pop into her favourite late night deli and buy bread for the morning, along with some bagels, smoked salmon and cream cheese. Then she crossed to the vending machine and bought a paper before turning to head back for home. She was just about to cross the street when she saw them on the opposite side and her heart suddenly dropped.

The woman hadn't noticed her. She was too busy gripping onto the child's hand and bending to tell him something that, to all intents and purposes, he didn't seem to want to hear. If she had been mistaken as to the identity of the woman, there could be no mistaking the child. Even at a distance, she could see the shadow of her late husband in his face.

Moving to her left, she stepped around the man stood next to her at the crossing, hoping that Lily would walk on his other side and, to her relief, they all passed each other without any recognition. When she reached the safety of the opposing kerb, she turned and looked back, but they had already disappeared and, for a brief moment, she wondered if she had been imagining it.

She jogged rather than walked back to her apartment and, once inside, dropped her purchases onto the table and sank down onto the couch. It had been a sighting she hadn't prepared herself for. She had planned on how to react when thoughts and memories of Edward infiltrated her brain, as she knew they would, and purposefully had taken steps not to allow herself to relive the shooting but this...seeing his child...that was something that she hadn't prepared herself for.

The phone was sitting on the table. All she had to do was lift it, call Ben and she knew that he would be with her in a shot. His arms would go around her, he would tell her that everything was going to be fine and then he would stay the night and she would sleep curled against him.

 _No...no you have to do this on your own. Wasn't that the whole point? You can do this. You_ know _you can do this. Just take a breath, just take a breath and think ...think about how she can't hurt you, Edward can't hurt you, the kid can't hurt you...they can only hurt you if you let them, and you're not going to do that. You're not going to let them do that._

She ran a bath, sank into the bubbles and closed her eyes, thinking about happier times, reminiscing on the day she had spent with Ben, on everything they had done, on how much he loved her and she loved him. Slowly, she started to feel better and by the time she got into bed and pulled the covers around herself, she felt at peace.

XXXX

It certainly hadn't been the news he had been expecting to hear when he walked into her apartment the following day, especially when he had some of his own to impart.

"You should have called me!" he said, angrily pacing in front of her.

"Why?" she asked from her position on the couch. "What would have been the point?"

"The point..." he turned to her. "The point would have been that I could have come over. I could have been with you! I could have, I don't know, helped you!"

"With what? How I was feeling? You can't help me with that Ben, _that_ was the point of my therapy...being able to deal with these things on my own. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to lift the phone and ask you to come over, and don't think I didn't consider it, but I needed to work through my feelings on my own. And I did."

"But you don't..." he broke off as he met her gaze, surprised to see the strength and determination behind her eyes. "You don't have to, is my point. You may have made certain rules and regulations for our relationship but it's hard for me to stand back and...and watch you struggle."

"I'm not struggling! Yes, I admit, when I first saw them it affected me and when I came back here I was pretty shaken up. But after I sat and I thought about things and I used the techniques they taught me at the center, I got myself under control and I worked through it. I'm _fine._ "

"I just..."

"You need to trust me, Ben. At the very least you need to have some faith in me."

"Faith in you?" he echoed, amazed that she could even suggest otherwise. "Of course I have faith in you! If I didn't have faith in you I wouldn't have gone all the way over to London to get you. I have plenty of faith in you, Evelyn, but forgive me if I don't like standing on the sidelines and watching you face things on your own when I'm here!"

Rising to her feet, she crossed the space towards him and slid her arms around his waist. "And I am _so_ grateful that you are here. But part of having faith in me means having faith that I can do what I need to do _for myself._ I love you, I do, but if you're going to try to undermine me at every turn...then this isn't going to work between us."

"No..." he drew her into him, fearful of that sort of talk. "No, don't say that. You're right, I know you're right. I guess...I guess I just can't help worrying about you."

"I know," she buried her face in his chest, "and I understand why you worry. Lord knows I've given you enough reason to. But now you need to let me fly solo occasionally."

He paused, wondering if he should say what he was thinking and deciding that it couldn't really hurt. "You know, chances are you're going to bump into them again. Lily at least."

She pulled back and looked up at him. "And I'll just have to deal with that, won't I?"

"Yes," he kissed her nose, "I guess you will."

"Good..." she moved away from him and sat back down on the couch. "So, what do you want to do today, other than go to bed that is?"

His mind landed back on the information that he needed to pass onto her and though he had tried to think of ways to avoid telling her, he knew it was impossible and, given her new found attitude towards the issues in her life, somewhat infantalising. He moved to join her on the couch and slid his arm around her shoulder.

"When I got home last night I had a message on my machine from Jack McCoy. He wanted to know how you were and if you'd be up for going in and talking to him on Monday." He watched her closely, gauging her reaction carefully.

"About the case?" she asked, her expression neutral.

"I assume so."

She nodded, "Well I said that I'd meet Shambala for coffee on Monday afternoon but any time before that would be fine."

He wasn't sure why he was surprised, but he found that he was. "Shambala?"

"Yeah, I called her when I was still at the center to see if there was any possibility of getting my job back. She didn't come right out and say it but from what she _did_ say, I think I might have a chance, so long as I can convince Derek."

"You want to go back to the public defenders' office?"

"It's maybe not where I see myself spending the next twenty years of my life but it's a job, one I know that I can do well." She cocked her head to one side. "You don't look convinced."

"No, it's just..." he tried to measure his tone, to find the right words. "I suppose that I don't want you taking on too much too soon."

"I need to earn a living. Which reminds me, I need to call my attorney on Monday and find out what's happening with Eddie's estate. _That_ money would certainly be welcome right now." She got to her feet and hurried over to the counter, lifting a scrap of paper and a pen and jotting something down. He watched as her hair fell over her face and couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of...what, jealousy?

_She wants to go back to a stressful job and she wants to talk to her lawyer about her bastard husband's estate...but she doesn't want to move forwards with me? Doesn't want to get married yet?_

"Do you want to call Jack back or do you want me to?" she asked, lifting her head again.

"I'll call him later. Tell him that Monday morning would suit us best and see what he says."

"Ok," she smiled. "So, what are we going to do then?"

XXXX

They ended up walking through Central Park, arm in arm, chatting about nothing in particular and, more often than not, saying nothing at all. People milled around them, other couples, families, single people...everyone enjoying the weather. They stopped for a light lunch near the lake and with the sun on her face and the slight breeze ruffling her hair, Evelyn felt calm. It helped, she supposed, being behind sunglasses, but the noisy tranquillity of the setting made her feel as though a dozen Lily's and little Jack's could parade through the park and it wouldn't affect her.

 _"Beware of false bravado,"_ Emma had warned her. _"The feeling of being all-conquering very quickly. Everything will take time."_

"What are you thinking about?" Ben asked, breaking into her thoughts.

"Just how nice it is to be back here again," she replied. "London's a beautiful place but nothing beats New York. I don't know if it's just positive thinking or not, but I feel better just by being back here, even better than I felt at the center."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"Yes," she smiled at him, "It's good."

They walked a little further though the lush greenery before buying ice cream and heading back in the direction of her apartment.

"You know I was thinking..." she said as they walked hand in hand, desperately trying to catch the last few drops of goodness before they dripped onto the sidewalk. "I went up the Empire State Building for you last year."

"So?"

"So, I reckon you owe me a boat trip."

"Ah, well I'll have you know I've been on a boat recently."

"Really?" she looked at him in surprise. "When?"

"Before I went to Detroit I took the kids out to Ellis Island with Paul, his girlfriend and her nephews. We had a nice time too."

"And you weren't scared?"

"Not a bit."

"I don't believe you."

"It's true!" he said, finishing the last of his cone. "I actually surprised myself."

"Well then you won't have any difficulty going on a boat for me then, will you?"

He turned to her and pulled her into him. "Marry me on a boat and we'll call it even."

She laughed, "A boat on the Hudson before the end of the year? Sounds like the plot of a disaster movie. I can just see it now, me shivering on the deck in a wedding dress as the waves threaten to capsize us all."

He kissed her gently. "Who said it would be on the Hudson?"

"The East River? Long Island Sound? Ooh...Jamaica Bay?"

"I was thinking somewhere a bit more exotic like...Italy or France."

She studied his face, looking for any sign that he was making a joke at her expense, but all she could find was sincerity and, dare she say, hope. "You're serious."

"Why not? We've both been married in this city before...why not do something completely different? Something that's just for us."

"You mean we should elope?" He nodded. "Ben..."

"Think about it," he held her tighter. "We go on vacation together somewhere and we come back married. No stress, no fuss, no worry about what anyone else thinks or feels...just you and me. And we can do it whenever you want. It doesn't have to be before the end of the year. I just..." he kissed her again. "If the thought of a wedding...here...with everything that that would entail was part of the reason why you weren't keen to go ahead then...then I thought that this idea might be a way around that."

"It does sound pretty blissful," she admitted. "Maybe not on a boat though...maybe a beach..."

"Wherever you want."

She looked up into his face and thought for the millionth time how lucky she was to still have him in her life. That he had cared enough, loved her enough to do everything that he had done for her... "Ok, I'll make you a deal." He raised his eyebrows. "We can get engaged, properly engaged ring and all, before the end of the year, but we don't get married until, at least, the spring...and we do it just like you said."

He grinned at her again, "That, counsellor, is a deal I can get on board with."


	35. Chapter 35

Despite the gifts they had left for her in the apartment, Evelyn had been nervous about seeing the children again. So much so that she had been tempted to tell Ben not to bring them over after all once he had picked them up from the train station, fearing it might all be too much too soon. But she hadn't found the words to articulate her fears, so he had cheerily left to collect them and she had been stuck with no means of backing out.

As she had waited for them to return, she had aimlessly moved about the apartment, checked her appearance a dozen times and set out sodas and chips in case they were hungry after their train journey. She had practiced what she was going to say over and over in the quiet, feeling more anxious than she had before any trial and when she had heard their voices outside the door, had been quite convinced that she might keel over.

In the end, it had been a roaring success. After some initial awkwardness, the conversation had flowed freely and they had regaled her with tales of their time in Florida and Detroit, the summer camps they had attended and the classes they would be taking that year. She asked Peter about his thoughts on college and he had surprised all of them by opining that he might consider the University of Michigan. She had thanked both of them for the gifts and provisionally picked a game to attend with Peter from the fixture list he happened to have with him and then there had been a lull where it had seemed appropriate for her to talk and try to explain some of the reasons behind what she had done.

She kept it fairly circumspect, obviously not revealing all of her transgressions, but she explained how badly everything had affected her, how she had felt a burning need to get away and how she had bitterly regretted the move the moment it had been completed. She apologised for anything done or said that had hurt them and Peter, to his credit, had apologised for the comment he had made. By the time Ben was due to take them home, the air seemed well cleared and though she knew that it would never all be forgotten, she felt as though she had been forgiven.

The following morning, just before lunchtime, found her riding the elevator in the DA's office with Ben up to the sixth floor to meet with Jack about the case. She hadn't slept well the night before, despite the positive reaction from Peter and Pamela, her mind churning over and over what he might have to say. The evening at the police station in London when she had looked at the mugshots seemed so long ago and the memory was clouded in a haze. She tried not to think about what she had done afterwards, Ben's hand in hers a reminder that she hadn't told him every detail of her time there, but in some strange way she wondered if Jack knew.

_You didn't pick anyone out and then you slept with the officer._

_Doesn't exactly make you a credible and reliable witness, does it?_

The elevator pinged as it reached its destination and they walked together around to Jack's office, where Claire was waiting outside for them, her face lighting up as they approached. "It's so good to see you," she said, offering Evelyn a hug that she gratefully accepted. "You look great."

"Thanks," she replied as Claire opened the door and ushered them inside. Jack rose from his desk upon seeing them and stepped forwards to kiss her on the cheek and shake Ben's hand. As she took a seat, she couldn't help thinking back on the times she had been in his office before, prior to Edward's trial, and a slight shiver ran through her. It could all be about to happen all over again.

"Good to see you both," Jack said.

"Likewise," Ben replied.

"How are you Evelyn?"

"I'm doing good," she replied as honestly as she felt she could in the current situation.

"Well that's encouraging to hear." Jack thrust his hands into his pockets and paused. "Scarpetta and Lucci are willing to deal. Scarpetta pleads on assault two for the attack on you, Ben and he does five. Lucci pleads on attempt murder two and takes fifteen." He paused again. "And they name no-one."

No-one said anything for a long moment as Evelyn in particular digested the news. Fifteen years. Fifteen years for almost killing her and killing her baby. Their baby. Did that seem right? Did it seem enough? Her head started to swim. "The alternative being..."

"The alternative being that we go to trial on everything and both of you need to give evidence."

"Jack..." Ben sat forwards but the other man cut him off.

"We can try and push both of them on who ordered the hit but you know as well as I do that they don't require to give evidence on their own behalf and Ralph McQueen's testimony about Robert O'Reilly won't cut it on its own. Best case scenario Lucci gets twenty-five to life. Worst case scenario...they both walk." He met her gaze. "It sounds like déjà vu, but it's your decision. I'll go along with whatever you want."

Ben leaned into her as though to offer an opinion but she ignored him. "What do you think I should do?"

Jack shook his head, "Only you can decide that but...this way...it would be over."

_Over._

"But you won't get the people at the top...the people that you think ordered this."

"No..." he admitted, glancing at Ben, "but we'll get the people who physically hurt you...and that's enough for me right now. I guess the question is, is it enough for you?"

_No more courtrooms unless you choose to be in one._

_No worrying about having to take the stand._

_No fear of reprisals._

_Someone taking responsibility for what happened..._

"Ok," she said, after another long silence. "Ok, make the deal."

Jack held her gaze. "You're sure?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I'm sure."

As the elevator made its way back down to the ground floor again, Ben slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her into him. "Are you ok?"

"Yes," she said, "yes, I'm fine."

"I wouldn't want you taking the stand. I told Jack over and over..."

Turning, she kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I know. I wouldn't have relished the prospect but I would have done it. This way, neither of us has to. It's time to look forwards, Ben, not back."

He kissed her in return, "I couldn't agree more."

XXXX

"You're really serious about wanting to come back to work?" Shambala asked, eying her carefully over the rim of her coffee cup. "You don't think it might be too soon?"

"Too soon since I was released from the lunatic asylum you mean?"

"That's not what I meant at all, but you've been through a difficult time and you know that this job is no picnic..."

"I know," Evelyn nodded. "But you all know me and you know what I can do. How am I going to explain London and where I've been for the last two months to a completely new potential employer? If I have to tell people that I was in a treatment facility nobody will hire me."

"They can't discriminate against you because of mental illness."

"Of course they _shouldn't_ but we both know that they would."

Shambala paused, "Have you thought about doing something completely different?"

"Like what?"

"Like helping other women who have been in your situation. Victims of domestic abuse, sexual violence, alcoholism..."

A slight shiver went through her body at the very mention of the words. "I don't know..."

"Someone like you, articulate, professional could be a big asset."

"To who?"

"Well, what about Women In Need?" Shambala said. "I'm sure they could use your talents in lots of different ways."

Evelyn paused, "I don't know..."

"Why not?"

"Because..." she fought for an answer. "Because I'm not sure that I'm far enough ahead in my own recovery to be able to help others yet, that's why. I won't be much good to anyone if I'm still struggling myself." Her mind flitted back to seeing Lily and Jack and she opened her mouth to tell her friend and then decided not to.

"Fair point," Shambala conceded. "Are you still going to therapy?"

"I start again with Liz Olivet tomorrow."

"Well that's positive."

"I suppose so." She paused. "Ben and I went to see McCoy this morning. He's managed to agree deals with the men responsible for the shooting which means Ben and I won't have to testify."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"Honestly?" Shambala nodded. "Relieved. I mean, if we had gone in there and he had said that there was no prospect of any deal, that it would be a full trial and that I needed to get up on the stand then I would have done it...but I'm glad I don't have to."

"Well I'm glad _for_ you."

"Thanks." Evelyn looked at her. "So, will you talk to Derek for me?"

"What does Ben think about all this?"

"All what?"

"You wanting to go back to work."

"I think he was surprised but he supports me...as I hope _you_ will."

"Ok," Shambala sighed. "If you're really sure it's what you want to do then I'll raise it with Derek tomorrow and see what he says. Like I said, we're pretty stretched right now so someone with your experience would be a Godsend."

"Great."

"But don't dismiss my suggestion out of hand," she said sternly."I still think it would be a good move for you."

"Ok," Evelyn lifted her coffee cup and rolled her eyes comically. "I'll think about it."

XXXX

"Yes that's all fine," Laura said. "Those weekends suit me, but I don't see why you had to call me about them specifically now. The first change is a month away at least. Even if I wasn't going to be working at Bergdorf's..."

"Bergdorf's?" Ben echoed. "You got a job?"

"Yes," she replied tightly. "Is that such a huge surprise?"

He paused, tempted to say that it _was_ but realised that it would only cause things to escalate and that wasn't why he had called. "No. I'm happy for you if it's what you want."

"It's a good company with an attractive package and they said they would value my expertise as a buyer so..."

"Good."

"So, as I said, even despite that I don't see why you felt the need to call about the schedule change."

Ben paused again. The schedule change had been a ruse of course, to lull her into a somewhat easy conversation and then tell her what he had really called to say, but her clipped response told him that he hadn't quite succeeded. "Evelyn and I were at the DA's office this morning." Laura didn't say anything. "The men who shot Evelyn have made a deal so there won't be a trial."

"Well...that's good, isn't it?"

"Yes I suppose it is."

"You won't need to testify."

"No, neither of us will."

"And how long will they be in jail?"

"The shooter will serve fifteen, the other one five."

"Well...that sounds about right, doesn't it?"

He paused again, wondering how to phrase it and then realising that it wouldn't really matter. He needed her to know that he hadn't forgotten, even if she conveniently had. "I'll guess we'll just never know the extent of Mark's involvement."

There was a prolonged silence at the other end of the phone and he waited, almost hearing the wheels turning in her brain.

"No," she said finally. "I suppose not."

"I still think it's an amazing coincidence that he ended up in your life."

"Well that's hardly my fault," she reacted. "I started seeing him before you even met Evelyn so it's not as if anything could have been planned. Even if he was involved, how could anyone have foreseen that you would end up with her?"

"True." He hated the fact that she was right. Hated the fact that there was a missing piece somewhere that, try as he might, he couldn't locate. Though he supported Evelyn's decision to allow Jack to take the pleas from Lucci and Scarpetta, his prosecutor's instinct was finding it hard to let it go completely. "It'll just have to remain one of life's eternal mysteries."

"I guess so," she said stiffly. "Anyway, I suppose I better go."

"Yeah," he replied. "Me too."

XXXX

"It's wonderful to see you looking so well," Elizabeth greeted her warmly the following morning at her office. "I'm glad you agreed to continue to see me."

"Well, it seemed silly to start all over again with a new therapist," Evelyn replied, taking a seat on the couch. "Especially since you went above and beyond what I would imagine you do for every patient. I wanted to thank you for whatever strings you pulled to get me into the treatment center."

"Oh it wasn't a case of pulling strings. I could tell from what Ben said that you needed help and I happened to know someone who could provide that help."

"I'm very grateful to you, and to Mike for driving us there."

"It seems to have done you some good anyway."

"Yes," she replied honestly. "It has. I feel so much better."

"You _look_ better," Elizabeth observed, "better even that you looked when we all thought you were doing well. I owe you an apology for that too."

Evelyn frowned, "I don't understand..."

"You were faking it," she shook her head. "I've been there and I know what it's like. I should have been able to spot the signs in you and I didn't. It's a personal failing on my part and for that, I'm sorry. I want us both to do better this time."

"So do I," Evelyn smiled. "I guess I should kick off by telling you that I saw Lily Arthur on Saturday night. She was crossing the road not far from my building with her son. Eddie's son."

"How did that make you feel?"

"Panicky, shaky...I couldn't quite believe that I was home less than twenty four hours and I'd already been confronted by one of the things that had affected me the most in the past. She didn't see me and I managed to get myself home and under control, but it did shake me up. More than I admitted to Ben."

"It's completely natural," Elizabeth nodded. "Just because you've been away and done a program doesn't mean that you're somehow automatically cured. It doesn't mean that you're not going to be triggered. It's how you cope when faced with those triggers that determines how strong your route to recovery is."

"I went home and told myself that she has no power over me. She has a child that I desperately wanted and she has the mistaken belief that Eddie loved her...but those are her issues, not mine and I don't have to give her any headspace. Before, I think seeing her would have had me reaching for the wine and torturing myself with questions over how he could say he loved me and yet have an affair with her whilst abusing me at the same time and I'm not saying that the thought didn't briefly cross my mind..."

"But you were able to dismiss it without it causing you unnecessary anxiety."

"Yes."

"That's very positive," Elizabeth said. "As time goes on you'll find yourself getting stronger so that if you do see her again, it'll take less time for you to feel ok about it until eventually, hopefully, seeing her won't trigger you at all. What did Ben say?"

He thought I should have called him straight away. He said he would have come over to be with me but..." she paused. "I didn't want that. I don't want him to think that I don't want him or need him because I do but...I want to want and need him as a lover and a partner not as..."

"A crutch?"

"Exactly. I think he's finding it hard to give up that role."

"Ben is a wonderful man," Elizabeth said. "He's kind, caring, and he clearly loves you more than anything but from what I've observed of your relationship, he does seem to find himself slipping into that role regularly."

"I know, and I don't want that. I want to be supported by him, but only as any normal woman would want from her partner. I think I conveyed that to him," she paused, thinking back to their conversation on the Sunday morning, "but he definitely finds it hard to pull back."

Elizabeth said forward, "You may find this awkward, or indeed perhaps he would, but I would be happy to have a joint session with you if you felt that it would help."

"I don't think he'd be comfortable with that. I think he feels hurt if his support of me is questioned."

"Well, it's an option." Elizabeth sat back again. "Remember, you were going to bring your mother along at some point. Is that still something you'd be interested in?"

Evelyn paused for a long moment, thinking back to the last time she had spoken to her mother and how it felt as though their relationship had been irrevocably changed. "You know...at one time I thought it would be a great idea but now I think it's better that I just keep low contact with her. I don't need the stress of her right now."

Elizabeth smiled, "It's good that you can see that for yourself. That's a good step forwards too."

"Thanks," Evelyn smiled too, "Let's hope there's plenty steps forwards and not too many steps back."

XXXX

That evening she had dinner with Ben and the kids at his apartment. Only the second day back at school and they were still buzzing with the excitement of it all and took great pleasure in ribbing their father on how he would be 'going back to school' himself the following week. It felt so nice, so natural to sit and eat and joke together, almost as if things past had never happened.

_You're lucky. You're so damn lucky._

After dinner, they played a very heated game of Monopoly, Peter ending up victorious, before Ben walked her back to her apartment under the pretext of chivalry, but with something much less gallant in mind. An hour, sweaty sheets and a couple of orgasms later, they lay in bed together listening to the silence and Evelyn found herself thinking back to her session with Elizabeth and what they had talked about. She had pondered raising the idea of a joint session with him but she was mindful of what she thought his reaction would be.

"So how are you _really_ feeling about Columbia next week?" she asked instead.

"Fine, why?"

"Oh come on," she raised herself up onto her elbows and looked down at him. "You wouldn't be human if you weren't even a little nervous."

"Ok," he admitted, "I'm a little nervous."

"You'll be absolutely fine. The students are going to love you and you're going to fall in love with criminal law all over again."

"Who says I fell _out_ of love with it?"

"Well, it must have taken something to make you decide to quit the DA's office," she said. "I think there had to be a _little_ falling out of love, don't you?" He didn't say anything for a long moment and his gaze took on a faraway look. "I'm sorry," she backtracked. "All this therapy and suddenly I think that everyone should open up about everything."

"No," he reassured her. "It's not that. I guess...I guess I had just pushed her to the back of my mind a bit lately."

"Her?"

"Ann Madsen."

"Ah." She paused. They had never talked about it, not really. He had been so fixated on helping her sort out _her_ problems that his own had somehow seemed secondary and inconsequential. "You still feel guilty."

He nodded, "I guess I do. Maybe I always will."

"No, you won't," she kissed him lightly. "If there's one thing I've learned it's that you have the power over your own thoughts and feelings and you can only feel as much guilt as you _let_ yourself feel. I know it's early days and it's still raw...you just need to give yourself some time."

He paused. "I had thought about going to visit her grave. I went to her funeral, but I was so concerned with possibly upsetting her family that I felt as though I couldn't concentrate."

"That sounds like a good idea," she said supportively. "Maybe we could go together sometime."

He met her gaze, "I'd like that."


	36. Chapter 36

**November 1994**

**Two months later**

"And so the concept of self defence is subjective. Am I reacting proportionately? Am I using a sufficient level of counteracting force or violence? What if I reasonably perceive a threat that doesn't exist? Could I retreat? Should I follow an intruder making his escape?" Ben looked up at the rows of students all watching him intently as he spoke and could almost see their minds whirring over the possibilities that he was suggesting. It was, in a way, quite satisfying. "Now in your folders, you have a case scenario that I want you to examine before class next week. It's based on a real case that happened right here in the city a couple of years ago that I happened to prosecute." A slight ripple went through the room. "I thought that would excite you. So...work on it and we'll discuss it next week. Have a good weekend."

A hum started up as everyone got to their feet and started stuffing books and papers back into their bags. He was amazed that he had actually held their attention as long as he had, given that it was almost the end of the day not to mention the end of the week, but then at their stage everything about criminal law was still considered new and exciting.

He remembered it well.

As he turned to switch off the projector, he caught sight of someone coming down the steps towards him and was surprised to see Evelyn smiling broadly at him. His stomach leapt slightly, the way it always did when he saw her and, mindful of the students still in the room, greeted her in somewhat muted fashion. "What are you doing here?" he asked, kissing her lightly on the cheek. "This is a pleasant surprise."

"I happened to be in the neighbourhood..."

"You just happened to be in the neighbourhood?"

"Well, I finished my consultation at Rikers early and I had to pop into Gracie's and get her to make a few last minute adjustments to my dress for tonight so I thought I would sneak in to hear the end of your class." She grinned up at him. "Sounded pretty good. I'm only sorry I can't enrol. I've always had a thing for the old teacher-student genre."

He laughed as he gathered up his belongings from the desktop, "Not that I think I could teach you anything, but I'd be happy to give you a private tutorial anytime you'd like."

"I'll hold you to that. So..." she looked around at the rapidly emptying room. "This certainly takes me back. I'm intrigued as to what real life case study you've given them."

"Do you remember the George Costas case?"

She frowned for a moment then her expression cleared. "He was a jeweller, wasn't he?"

Ben nodded. "He shot two armed robbers that came into his store. He was legitimately defending himself and his property until he followed one of them outside and killed him while he sat in his car. He argued self defence but he was rightly convicted for that murder."

"Wasn't there an appeal?"

"An unsuccessful one. He's still in Attica."

"Don't look so smug about it," she cautioned him. "From what I remember, he had a lot of sympathy amongst the public."

"Public sympathy and what's right under the law are two different things."

"Yes counsellor," she smiled.

"Sorry," he backtracked. "I don't mean to get on my soapbox."

"It's nice to hear you being passionate. How has the rest of your day been?"

"Not too bad."

"You don't sound altogether convincing."

He met her gaze, acutely aware that she seemed an expert in knowing when he was being slightly liberal with the truth. "It's not the same."

"It's only been, what, six weeks? It takes time to bed into a new place."

"I know. I guess I just miss what I left behind, more than I ever thought I would." He put his hand on the small of her back and guided her out of the room and into the hallway, thronging with students laughing and shouting to each other and making plans for the weekend. "So what's the matter with your dress?"

"I tried it on again last night and it needs taken in a bit," she replied. "Thankfully Gracie said she could fit me in. I've to collect it in an hour."

"You're losing too much weight," he chided. "There won't be anything left of you soon."

"Hardly," she laughed, "besides, I'm going to be in a room full of skinny lawyers who live on coffee, cigarettes and hundred hour working weeks. I need to look my best."

"You _are_ a skinny lawyer and you _always_ look your best," he slid his arm around her waist and she chuckled.

"You're biased."

"I am."

They walked on towards the main entrance, stopping just short of it before she spoke again. "Marion Delgado called me again this morning."

"From Women In Need?"

Evelyn nodded. "She wanted to ask me if I had thought any more about her offer."

"I thought she only called you last week?"

"She did. This was her calling to see if I'd changed my mind in the last...oh...five days."

"And have you?"

She shrugged. "I don't know Ben...she's keen, I'll give her that and maybe I _would_ be of some use to the organisation but I'm just not sure that I'm quite _there_ yet."

He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Well, only you know if you are or not. You've come so far in the last few months."

It was no word of a lie. He was proud of everything that she had achieved since being released from treatment. She had gone back to work at the public defenders' office, though strictly in a consultative and trial preparation role only. She did a lot of the legwork for other attorneys, met with clients and covered bail hearings and arraignments, but had yet to conduct a trial on her own. She met religiously with Elizabeth every week, kept very low contact with her mother and participated in his family life as much or as little as she felt she wanted to. It did feel as though they were 'dating' but knowing that she was happy to be engaged by the end of the year with a wedding in the spring had somehow kept him from going overboard in his want and need for her affections...so far.

"I think I just need some more time to consider it," she replied. "I don't want to let the office down either. They've been so good at taking me back and letting me do things at my own pace."

"But it was Shambala that suggested Women In Need, remember?"

"I know. I just don't want to rush things. I don't want to make a mistake."

"Well, whatever you decide to do, you know that I support you."

"Thank you," she moved into him for a brief embrace, "I appreciate that. But I must be keeping you from your last class."

"Oh I'm sure they won't mind."

"But I do. I don't want to be responsible for Professor Stone being late." She stepped back and smiled up at him again. "Six-thirty at my place?"

"Absolutely. I'll see you then." He dropped a kiss on her mouth and then watched as she walked away from him through the main door and out into the crisp afternoon air.

_You're one lucky son-of-a-bitch._

XXXX

She was nervous and yet she wasn't sure why. It wasn't an exam or a court appearance or anything that anyone would ever really consider remotely stressful. It was a party. That was all. Adam had been successfully re-elected to the position of District Attorney for another four years and the state was hosting a function at India House in Hanover Square. She hadn't expected an invite but then she had realised that of course Ben would be invited and of course he would take her with him. They were a couple after all. Engaged in all but form.

She was worried about who she might see. Not Adam or his lovely wife. Not Paul and his fiancée that she had heard so much about. Not judges that she appeared before or even businesspeople, donors that she didn't know. No. It was the other people who might be there. People from Burns & Associates. People who knew Edward. People like Josh Lieberman...and Lily.

She had talked to Elizabeth about her fears and the other woman had quite rightly pointed out that she had nothing to be frightened of. Even if there _were_ people there that might make her feel uncomfortable she was in control of her own feelings and could give them as much or as little headspace as she wanted.

"But some people there might know that I've been in treatment," she had said. "I feel as though they could be judging me."

"For what?" Elizabeth had replied. "Getting help? If one of them was sick do you not think they would seek help?"

It all made sense, she knew it did and yet she couldn't help the butterflies that were cascading around in her stomach. Going to see Ben at Columbia had been an excuse. She hadn't really needed to see him in action as it were, she had just needed some sort of tacit reassurance, even if they hadn't talked about her fears directly. After leaving him, she had gone to get her hair and make-up done at a local salon and then picked her dress up from Gracie. It wasn't an overly showy number, emerald green with a scooped back. She could have gone more daring, there no doubt would be plenty of other women there that had, but she hadn't wanted to call too much attention to herself.

She pottered about the apartment, killing that dead time between it being too early to get ready and actually getting ready. She made herself some toast and coffee to tide herself over, watched a little television and then shortly before Ben was due to arrive, slipped into her dress and heels and put her essentials into a small dress purse before adding some jewellery and then looking at herself critically in the mirror.

_You look fine. You'll be fine._

_You look fine. You'll be fine._

Ben's appreciation when he arrived at her apartment was genuine and as he told her how beautiful she looked and how proud he was going to be to have her on his arm that evening, she felt herself start to slowly feel more confident, but as she turned the lamp on and did a last minute check before they left, she turned to find him hovering slightly restlessly by the couch.

"Everything ok?" she asked, frowning slightly. His admission to her that afternoon at Columbia had simply been the confirmation of what she had been thinking since he had taken up the role. His heart wasn't really in it and though she had tried to chide him along and tell him that he was going to be a great teacher of young minds, she knew deep down that he felt as though something was missing, something that was most likely lying with Ann Madsen in the grave they had visited together a few weeks earlier.

"Fine," he replied.

"Are you sure?"

"Well..." he hesitated, "there's something that I wanted to give you, but I don't know if I should."

"Really?" she raised her eyebrows.

"No, not that," he laughed, "although with the kids being at Laura's all weekend I'm hoping that I can take advantage of seeing you _out_ of that dress..." he paused and reached into his pocket. "No, it's this."

He pulled out a small box and she instantly knew what it was.

"Like I said," he looked at her searchingly, "I'm not sure if I should so if you want me not to, then I can just put it away and not mention it again for a while. I don't want to rush you..."

She crossed the space between them and stopped in front of him. "Can I see it?"

"Of course."

He opened it and she couldn't help but draw in a breath. It was beautiful. Smaller than the monstrosity Edward had bought for her, the monstrosity that at the time she had thought she wanted, but in every way so much more perfect.

"It's beautiful," she said softly. He didn't say anything and the air hung heavy with expectation. She knew he wouldn't mind if she told him to save it for another time but the more she looked at it, the more she could see it on her finger. And it didn't mean that they were getting married the next day. It was just a promise, one that she knew she wanted to make. It felt right this time, moreso than it had that night at the top of the Empire State Building when she had been plagued with doubt. She looked at him and then held out her hand. Instantly his eyes lit up and he prised the ring carefully out of its velvet setting and slid it onto her finger.

"It looks good," he commented.

She looked at it, sparkling in the low light and smiled. "It looks perfect."

XXXX

By the time the cab pulled up outside India House, Ben felt as though he was already drunk. He had swayed back and forth so many times over the course of the day whether or not to present her with the ring and even when he had opened the box and showed it to her, he had been almost totally convinced that she would say it was too soon. It had made his head spin when she had let him put it on her finger and it had only been her gently reminding him that there was a meter running down on the street that had persuaded him that they should still go to the event rather than simply go to bed.

Inside, the venue was swarming with people, many that he recognised but some that he didn't. There was champagne and orange juice on arrival and he followed Evelyn's lead and chose the latter.

"You _can_ drink you know," she said, as they made their way into the main celebration space. "Just because I'm not doesn't mean you can't."

"I might have one later," he replied nonchalantly. "I'm not really that bothered to be honest."

She smiled up at him and pressed herself lightly against him. "You're a good man, Ben Stone."

"Well I've got a good lady."

"Enough of that!" A voice boomed out good-naturedly as he bent to kiss her. "Glad you could both make it. How are you my boy?" Adam asked, appearing beside them and putting his arm around Ben's shoulder.

"I'm fine, thank you sir," he replied, reverently as always. "It looks like it's certainly going to be one hell of a party."

"Yup... no expense spared by the state. I think they're relieved I got re-elected."

"Well they should be."

"And look at you..." Adam turned to admire Evelyn, "You look lovely my dear."

"Thank you," she replied, accepting his kiss on the cheek. "You look very well yourself."

"Well, don't tell my wife but I might have had a few glasses of scotch already."

"It _is_ your party."

"Indeed it is." He smiled at her. "You're looking well my dear. Jack tells me you're back at the Public Defenders' office. He's says he's quaking at the prospect of crossing swords with you in court again."

Evelyn laughed, "I don't think he has much to worry about."

"Oh I wouldn't say that." Adam put an arm around each of them. "So, when are you pair going to make it all official?"

Ben looked over at Evelyn, trying to gauge her reaction and how she might want to approach the question, but she responded before he had time to.

"Well actually, he officially asked me earlier this evening," she said, holding out her hand for the older man to admire the ring that seemed to sparkle even more under the lights.

"Now that _is_ a beauty," Adam said appreciatively before kissing her again and then shaking Ben's hand. "Congratulations. I'll be expecting an invite to the wedding of course."

"Of course," Ben replied automatically.

"Now, I'd love to stay and chat with you lovely pair all night but, unfortunately, I have to do the rounds and talk to some people that I don't like quite as much. But we'll have another drink later, alright?"

"Absolutely," Ben said, as Adam disappeared into the throng of people. He turned back to Evelyn who was smiling and shaking her head. "I wasn't sure if you would want to tell people or not."

"Well I think wearing the ring does kind of give the game away, don't you?" she replied.

"Yes," he agreed, pulling her tightly into him, "I guess it does."

XXXX

"So you're going to elope?" Shambala said. "You're not going to get married here in the city?"

"Nope," Evelyn shook her head. "We're going to do it just the two of us. Or maybe the four of us if Ben wants the kids there. I'm happy to go along with whatever he thinks is best."

"It's so romantic," Claire said dreamily, draining the last of her champagne. "It's like a love story fairytale ending."

"I suppose it is," Evelyn said, looking down at the ring again. She had barely taken her eyes off it all night, constantly finding excuses to have it in her sight. It was amazing how much a piece of jewellery could affect a person when it was given by the right man. She had been relieved to see the other women and gratified that Lily was nowhere in sight, although Josh _was_ there but had elected to give her a wide berth. All in all, the evening had gone well and the fears that had threatened to overwhelm her at times had proved to be unfounded.

"Now we just need to find _me_ a man," Shambala sat back with a sigh. "Not that I seem to have any time for dating these days."

"No-one in your office?" Claire asked.

"No...sadly I've not been lucky that way, unlike you two."

" _I'm_ not dating anyone from work," Claire said.

"Oh please!" Shambala laughed. "You're a terrible liar!"

"I said _dating_ ," Claire said, accepting another glass from a passing waiter, "I didn't say anything about..."

"Ok, ok!" Shambala held up her hands. "I'm not sure that Evelyn and I need to hear the end of that sentence."

"If you're happy, Claire, then that's all that matters," Evelyn said, recognising a certain glow in the younger woman's expression. "It's not for us to cast aspersions, is it?"

"Nooooo..." Shambala looked across the room. "It's a pity Paul's spoken for now."

Evelyn followed her gaze across to where Ben and Paul were standing talking with Paul's fiancée Deana. They had been introduced earlier and she had found the other woman to be charming and easy to talk to, but keen to stay by Paul's side. She recognised the behaviour well. That need for security in an environment where you're not quite sure that you fit in. She had been worried that she would feel that way herself that evening, had feared that stepping away from Ben would have caused her anxiety to go off the chart but, in reality, she had slid back into the social aspect of her work quite easily.

"Really?" she teased. "And there was me thinking that it was _Ben_ you were interested in at one time."

"At one time maybe," Shambala conceded, "but it's pretty obvious that he only has eyes and a heart for you, not to mention the fact that I think we would kill each other within about a week. You, my dear, are welcome to him."

"Thank you," Evelyn replied, meeting Ben's gaze across the room and feeling her heart thump in her chest. "I'll gladly take him."

XXXX

"You know Ben...there's nothing wrong in admitting that you've made a mistake."

"In what sense?"

"In the sense of being pig-headed enough to leave a job that you love rather than just simply admit you made a minor error of judgement."

Ben met Adam's gaze, aware that the older man had imbibed quite considerably that evening but also aware that the truth was often want to come out when alcohol was involved and guards were down. "I'm not sure I know what you mean..."

"Oh come on, come on, come on..." Adam shook his head. "You should never have left the office. _You_ know that and _I_ know that. I'm sure you'll do wonderfully well at Columbia and all the students and faculty will love you and you'll turn out like Mr Chips and you'll have kids on your doorstep in thirty years time hoping you remember them but I know you and you belong in a courtroom, not a classroom."

"Well..."

"I've nothing against Jack, lord knows he does a good job, but it isn't the same. I miss our conversations. I miss butting heads with you. I miss you being around and yes, I even miss your sanctimony at times."

Ben smothered a smile, "Well that's very kind..."

"You know I want nothing but the best for you and Evelyn," Adam waved his hand. "I want the two of you to be very happy together and be married as long if not longer than I've been fortunate enough to have been and have a bunch of kids to keep you on your toes...but I also want you back."

It felt odd, when he was in two minds himself over his career choice, to hear someone else put his thoughts into words. In one sense, it would be the easiest thing in the world to go back to the DA's office and slip back into the old role as though he had never been away. But Evelyn had been right in what she had said. It _did_ take time to bed into a place and six weeks wasn't really long enough to have given Columbia a fair shot.

Besides, he wasn't sure that he had quite forgiven himself yet.

"It's nice to know that you think so highly of me," he said.

"Ben, I'm not just saying this to flatter your ego," Adam said seriously. "As long as I sit in this chair, there will be a job for you in my office. I want you to know that. I want you to understand that."

"I do," Ben replied. "And I'm very grateful, but I think it would do me good to have a change, at least for a little while. I spent so many years focusing on my career that I effectively ruined my first marriage and I don't want to ruin this one too."

Adam didn't say anything for a long moment, then nodded his head. "I understand and I admire you for that. The door is always open."

"Thank you." They shook hands and he watched as the older man wandered away to talk to another group of people before turning to seek out Evelyn whom he found in a corner, laughing and joking with Claire and Shambala. It did his heart no end of good to see her looking relaxed and happy and when she looked up, caught his eye and smiled, he knew that he was making the right decision. He watched as she excused herself and came over towards him.

"Is everything ok?" she asked.

"Everything's fine," he replied, sliding his arms around her waist. "Do you want to stay longer or can I take my fiancée home and make love to her?"

She paused, her face contorting with mock serious thought. "Can I keep the ring on?"

"Yes," he laughed, "you can keep the ring on so long as everything else comes off."

"Deal."


End file.
